Meanwhile, on the Dutchman
by illogical squeeks
Summary: Being on the Dutchman wasn't all sunshine by any means... but sometimes, just sometimes, crazy things happened. Series of partially joined oneshots, humour about the Dutchman crew. In the telling of old stories, a new one is born.
1. Prologue and Chap 1: Gender Wars

Okay, I guess I'd bette explain a little about this story, because it's sort of a sequel... and sort of not. The bits in italics - such as the bit below - picks of right where the old one left off. You can skip them if you really like, heh. All of the other bits, however, are just funny, random or crazy happenings on board the _Dutchman_, told from the perspective of a girl who ended up stuck on there. Repeat: Not a horrible DavyxOC! Hooray! Anyway. You don't need to have read the first story to understand the little oneshotty bits.

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**Prologue **

_As they pulled out of the hug, Palafico flushed a little, looking slightly embarrassed. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, unable to believe how happy she felt. _

_"Bibsy... you're all grown up!" Palafico laughed, gesturing to her. She laughed too – he was right, she guessed. She really was. She wasn't a silly teenage girl who didn't know anything now – she was a proud sea captain! Her hair was cropped and she was looking tidy in a waistcoat and jacket, still disguised as a man as they didn't allow females in the navy, a fact she found very annoying._

_"And you're still exactly the same..." She murmured, looking at him closely, wanting to soak up every single little detail. Over ten long years, all of the details of how her old best friends had looked had started to melt away, until she could hardly remember any more; for Palafico, just a pair of large, dark, wise eyes. _

_"I thought I'd never see you again, Bibs. I... I really did." He looked sad, and happy at the same time. Bibsy knew what it was like, to be trapped in a paradox of bittersweet feelings. She nodded at him excitedly, not being able to stop grinning like an idiot. Other crewmembers were around too. They looked young, tired, and happy to be back. _

_"But I'm here. I was wrong, Palafico. There is no way back, back to my home. So I'm staying now." She looked at him. He looked at her. _

_"It's been a long time," Palafico said, scratching the back of his head. _

_"A very long time," Bibsy agreed. There was a pause. "How is guiding the souls?" She asked, interestedly, "Am I missing out?" _

_"It's... boring, for the most part." Palafico admitted. She laughed. He turned to her, his eyes fixed on her intently, serious now. "Come with us," He said. Her mouth opened, and closed again. "At sunset, when we go back... come with us. Guide the souls. It'd be much more fun with you there. And we could... you know... be... _together_..." _

_"I..." She wasn't sure what to say. What could she say to that? "Is that even allowed?" She asked him. He didn't know. So they just looked at each other. _

_"Come with us," He repeated, "Please." _

----------

Hello. My name is Sadie Ella Ward, however for some bizarre reason that I don't want to go into now, I am known as Bibsy. When I was (nearly) seventeen years old, I ended up going on this whole crazy hyped-up adventure, and somehow me, your average 21st century girl, ended up in the past. And it was fun, for the most part, and also confusing. Yes, this story is a sequel. My last story is about how all of this crap happened and how I ended up here, serving on board the _Flying Dutchman_, with it's scary crew. It's called A Long Way From Home.

Yeah, yeah, read that if you want, blah blah blah. Insert plug here. This, basically, is some good old reminiscing of those good old days on board the _Dutchman_, before the whole Jack Sparrow Incident occurred and killed off nearly half of our crew and the captain. Before Cutler Beckett came on board with his dinky buckle-up shoes and bossed us all around. Okay, I may go into some memories from there too.

For the most part, it's me and Palafico, just remembering the good times. And it shalt be funeth.

**1) Gender Wars **

"Women," Finnegan muttered, rolling his eyes as I squealed and started shaking my head wildly.

"That... was a _mean_ trick!" I protested, scrubbing bits of slime, seawater and seaweed from my hair with an unladylike pout, "A woman's hair is her pride! Well, sometimes. One of." I sighed, because – _as usual_ – the crew were laughing at me. This was one of their favourite pastimes, and I think it was simply childish, but I never did get a say in it.

"You're right," Jimmylegs agreed with Finnegan, "Women!" His grating voice was dripping with some contempt, but mostly just amusement. I was 'One of Them', so to speak, and if you sail together with a bunch of people and your (sort of) life lies in their hands constantly, you just sort of bond in the end. I've already told you, there's another story about exactly _how_ I got into this dire situation already. These are just bits of – cough – happy memories.

"Oh well," I sighed, spreading my arms out in a defeated gesture, "My hair is already _ruined_ anyway." Well, it was true. Working on a ship like the _Dutchman_, you didn't really get much in the way of personal hygiene. Also, the dyeing and careful straightening regime was right out of the window, which lead to my lovely, blonde bob going out of control and turning into a mass of uncontrolled, rolling ginger curls and frizz, with bits of seaweed entwined that I just couldn't get out, for some reason. I had near enough a bloody afro, for Christ's sake!

It was all a part of the Curse. Because our darling captain had been a Bad Boy, and had abandoned his duty to the sea goddess Calypso, causing a whole lot of drama and a whole lot of terrible half-fishy mutations. Oh, deary me; what's a girl to do? It was just _impossible_ to remain a gorgeous sex kitten under these conditions. And I used to think... _so_ unfair on _me_.

Because I could be awfully self-centred at times. But I'm not any more, of course... haha...

"Sometimes, I wonder why Cap'n Jones din't cut 'er throat and throw her overboard the second she stepped on board the ship, just to save a lot of trouble," A charming crewmember called Manray wondered aloud.

Ah. Well, I guess ole Davy Jones probably wouldn't have simply let anyone join his crew; but he was probably feeling a bit generous, and I did... err... bend the truth. A little. It's not that bad, just implying to someone that sailing was, pssht, _easy_, and that this here was a master navigator in the making. Sometimes, though, I suspected that he had a bet going with Maccus about how soon it would be before I died. Well, I couldn't die. But, you know... I moulded with the ship. Got washed overboard. Chopped into thousands of tiny pieces and sprinkled over the world. Just... _died_.

"_Women_ aren't all bad," I said, nudging Manray rather hard, who clutched his arm in mock pain before wandering off to watch another game of liars dice take place between Clanker, Hadras and Morey. I didn't find the game all that amusing, myself... though I am a liar of a most _excellent_ degree.

Yes, it was one of those times again – the ship was anchored, Davy was ramming on his organ, and there really was nothing much to do but talk and play Liars Dice. I was sitting, cross-legged, on top of a damp slatted crate, and a few other crewmembers were sprawled alongside me. Whenever I was with them, I got this 'little-sister-tagging-along-with-the-big-boys' feeling, but I ignored it as much as possible.

"Hmm," Palafico said – he was my closest friend on the _Dutchman_, though to be honest that's not really saying much – and a few other crewmembers grunted. This was a subject that was mostly ignored by men of the crew, shunted on. It was a bit taboo, love, what with Captain I-Tore-Out-My-Heart and all. But then, of course, Jimmylegs had to put forwards his opinion.

"Women get so moody," he mused, "And I reckons they's controlled by the moon."

"The... moon..." I said, slowly, raising one eyebrow in a 'you-are-so-weird' expression. A few of the crewmembers gathered laughed, but nodded anyway, listening on interested in this complete and utter madness. What dear Jimmy said next made me choke on my breath.

"It's like... phases o' the moon," He said with a shrug, "Cert'n times o' the month." At this point, I laughed out loud, and got a few startled looks.

"Oh, my..." I said, shaking my head.

"True, though," He smirked, "You gets all shouty around half-moon,"

"I do not 'get all shouty'." I snapped, going a bit red, I'd imagine, "And anyway, you're... oh dear..." I wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. "Men of this time are so ill-informed," I said, sticking my nose up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Palafico asked.

"You're stupid," I replied.

----------

Yes, life on board the _Dutchman_ was amusing, annoying and embarrassing all at once. It really is sort of hard to describe. Being the only woman amongst men can be very hard indeed, believe you me. And if you share your space, your home, your _everything_, then... well, there isn't much space left over for any secrets. No matter how _personal_. I'd never realized how well the crew had come to know me... about as well as I'd come to know them. Life isn't a one-way mirror; people notice as much things about you as you notice about them.

In some cases – some particular cases – _more_.

Could Jimmylegs really tell that I got 'all shouty' at a certain phase of the moon, simply from watching me? True, I'd been on the _Dutchman_ for; ooh, I don't know, three or four years now. But still, Christ, it was scary! Jimmylegs wasn't even that close a friend of mine! But when I thought about it, I knew odd little things about him – and others – too. For Jimmy, it was that vein; The Vein, we called it, like it was a person in itself; The Vein!

It popped up, pulsating on his swarthy neck whenever he was getting angry. And I would mouth to Palafico, _The Vein, the Vein!_ Honestly. You had to stop pushing it once The Vein had spoken. One more jibe and you would probably spend the rest of the afternoon picking your teeth from the decking.

"What're you looking at?" I demanded haughtily to Palafico, as we worked on the sails a day soon afterwards, while I was contemplating all of this. Palafico blinked at me, almost thoughtfully, and didn't reply for a few moments. And then he did.

"I never noticed how big your ears were," He said with a shrug.

"_What_?" I put one of my hands to my ear, self-consciously, "They're not big, they're... liberal!" Palafico just chuckled as I pulled my hair over my ears with a scowl, now unable to bear the thought of him gawping at the massive satellite dishes sticking out the side of my head. "Stop making me feel ugly! It's demoralizing!"

"You're not ugly," He reassured me, clambering off across the riggings, "Considering the Sprouting situation, anyway..." I scowled at his back. Whatever.

----------

"If you had one wish, what would it be?" I asked one day. I'd decided to make it my job to bring up random topics of conversation, as the crew of the _Dutchman_ weren't really chatterboxes, so to speak. About fifteen voices replied.

"Get off of 'ere..." I did not want this conversation veering to 'how crap life is' again. This was a most favoured topic amongst the men, and brought the mood down considerably.

"Fine, _apart_ from that," I said, quickly.

"That yer mouth was glued shut?" A crewmember called out. I was about to shout something back, but instead decided to turn to Palafico. See how mature I can be? I looked at him expectantly, and he looked away.

"Uh, I don't know," Palafico said uncomfortably as I turned to him. I looked at him blankly for a second, and then promptly turned to another crewmember.

"That I was dead," He sighed. This was exactly what made conversations on the _Dutchman_ so delightful. Everyone was obsessed with death, or gore. I knew that life was definitely no picnic on board the _Dutchman_; I mean, the whippings are bad, the captain is a meanie, and lots of crewmembers regretted choosing this over death. But come on! I don't want to get all depressed like them!

"Oh, never mind," I sighed, "You people just can't have a decent conversation without bringing up your favouritest subject of all... dying. That is not good, people, I think a lot of you are psychologically screwed-up." I glanced to Palafico, "Not like you to be shy, though,"

"I'm not shy," He muttered, standing straight from where he'd been leaning on the wall and stretching, before striding off towards the front of the ship.

Oh, yes! I did forget to mention Palafico's promotion! His fighting skills improved so much that he became none other then Davy Jones' bodyguard. Well, even _I_ have to admit that he can be pretty handy with those two swords of his. I never knew he was ambidextrous before he picked up two swords, one in each hand, and used them both at the same time, I mean, what a skill! Mind you, it meant he had to hang out a lot with Davy, which meant less time with me.

"Alright... _what_ is that smell?" I asked, wrinkling my nose, and glancing around at the other men, a few minutes later. The conversation had started again, and then petered out. And now there was the smell. "Ahh! Oh my god! No!" My mouth would have dropped open then, but I was afraid of being gassed, "No way! You are monsters! The terror of the seas! No..." I backed away, "You do not _fart_... ack!"

Men... men! As I walked away, I thought, I've said it before, and I'll say it again... _Men_! Aargh!

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**NB:** Bibsy's back, bitches! Alright, so you may want to read the other story if you don't want to read this one. Basically, a series of half-joined oneshots full of fun times on the _Dutchman_; it was terrible, but sometimes it could be ever so slightly funny... I've always thought sequels, especially with the main character being an OC, are horribly... well, horrible. But hopefully, this one wont be like that.

So, disclaimer; I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, in fact, the only thing about this story I do own is probably the rather ultra-crazy and slightly dim-witted Bibsy.


	2. Chap 2: The Christmas Disaster

**2) The Christmas Nightmare **

Hmm. But you have to think about it, don't you? The _Dutchman_ crew, really, aren't anything more then just ordinary blokes... a bunch of men that got press-ganged into this crew, and then became half-monster, and perhaps just grew up a little – oh, what am I saying? They haven't grown up one _bit_, giggling like schoolgirls at the most inane things. Honestly, the things they leave out of the movies!

One time, I was cooking. Because I'd made a deal with Koleniko that if he taught me to navigate, I would do the cookery. I _hated_ cooking, but it was absolutely necessary. Again, if you want the full story, you're going to have to go back to Long Way From Home. Capitalized. Yeahhh. I pulled a bunch of fish out of the cooker thing – it wasn't all automatic and electrical like in the future, but somehow it was easier to use. Simpler, I guess; no thousand knobs to turn for a single function.

I glanced towards the door, where I _knew_ at least six crewmembers would be hovering, drawn by the smell of actual cooked food. I wasn't even that _good_ at cooking; only compared to _them_, and that's hardly a compliment. Honestly, Davy had actually banned most of them from using the kitchens in case they blew us all to kingdom come. Logic, really.

"Bibsy..." Came a voice from outside.

"Bog off, Crash," I replied instantly, "Not done yet." I heard the door creaking open, "I have a frying pan and I'm not afraid to use it..." I warned.

"Uh, Bibs?" I turned around, surprised to hear Palafico behind me. "The captain says leave his food in the navigation room, he's not hungry..."

"Argh! What did his last slave die of?!" I growled, picking up a plate with the best fish on. Because Davy always got the best food, though whether he ate it or not was beyond me. Palafico shrugged with a sheepish smile. "Brownnoser," I scoffed.

"Catty cur," He rolled his eyes at me, which was a very interesting thing to watch, what with his... special condition. Ah, he used to have such beautiful eyes, before they turned into bits of anemone, or something! Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked here. I grinned at him, and he walked off with a smile. I slammed my way out of the kitchen, pushing past a few crewmembers who were nonchalantly hanging around next to the kitchen door.

"Don't even _think_ about it." I warned them. They all looked innocent.

I strode into the navigation room, putting down the plate and a knife and fork, and the little arrangement looked almost mocking, there on the dark mahogany. I rearranged it, but it still looked wrong. Davy never ate with us; in fact, he didn't generally spend quality time with the crew. He spent his entire life brooding, as far as I could tell. I sighed...

When I got back to the kitchen, I knew instantly. The cluster around the door was gone – scarpered from the scene of the crime. What crime, you may ask? Well. Nothing really. Just the fact that the food was gone. All gone. Grr. There wasn't even any left for me! I wanted to scream then... I turned and strode out of the small kitchen, up some small steps, and there were most of the crew, chatting and eating.

"I can't believe you stole it!" I fumed at them, and they all turned to face me, silence falling. "You took the food... _all of it_! You didn't even leave any for me! You selfish bast-" Before I could finish, they held up a plate for me; a serving of food, arranged like a smiley face, and they held it up as if it were their only protection from a storm with it. I looked at the untidy, yet happy little face made of bits of fish on the plate.

Somehow, it melted my heart.

----------

"Okay. _Sure_." I rolled my eyes as the crewmembers all buzzed with conversation. Somehow, word had gotten out that this Christmas – which was soon – Davy would let us have time off of our duties. Time to just sit around talking and eating stolen turkey... for the last week or so, I'd been pinching bits of cake, pies and turkey, vegetables, gravy and suchlike, especially for Christmas. My cooking was touch-and-go, and the crew told me as much, but I wanted Christmas to be special...

"We could have a party!" Piper said.

"Rum! No, wine!"

"Presents, stories..."

"Just time to ourselves!" An excited babble had risen, and I stared at them all, wondering what on earth made them believe that Davy would follow through with this. If he had even _said_ it; as far as I could tell, the rumour had sprung up from nowhere. They all _seemed_ excited about it but, well... it just didn't seem realistic. This was the _Dutchman_, Christmas or not.

"I wouldn't believe Davy if I were you... I mean, don't get your hopes up or anything," I said to them, trying to get them less excited, because I could just imagine their faces if – _when_ Davy told them that Christmas was cancelled.

"Don't be so pessimistic, Bibsy, it's not like you," Jelly said, and a few other crewmembers agreed, and I _definitely_ heard the term 'stick up ass' coming up somewhere at the back, "It's Christmas! It's going to be great! Davy said we could, so it'll be fine!"

"Oh, and look, 'gullible' is written on the ceiling!" I said. Immediately, all of the crew looked upwards.

It was a face-palm moment.

----------

_'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship, not a creature was shouting, and there was no crack of the whip. The stockings were causing a stink I couldn't bear, and I wondered why on earth St Nick would come here... _

_The crew were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of rum messed up their heads, Haddy in his bandana looking quite crap, we were all just settling for a nice winter nap... _

_When out on the top deck there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bunk to see what was the matter. Away to the decking we flew like a flash, I threw open the door and was elbowed by Crash... _

_The moon on the breast of the gentle waves on the sea, made it damned hard for us all to see. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a battle on Christmas Eve, which I felt was quite queer... _

_Our beloved Scottish captain calling to us quick, and ruining our Christmas, the silly old prick. More rapid then eagles his faithful crew came, and he ordered and shouted and called them by name... _

_"Now Haddy! Now Hadras! Now, Jelly and Morey! On, Clanker! On, Crash! On, on Piper and Oglivey! All hands on deck, come away from the wall! Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!" _

_As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, they brought out the grapnels, and took to the sky. There was so much panic from the other crew, with their brig full of trade, their Christmas was ruined too. _

_I turned to see Davy who'd been by the roof, but he seemed to have vanished like a cowardly poof – as I drew in my head and was turning around, down the stairs our captain came with a bound. _

_He was dressed in a blue trench coat, from his head to his foot, his clothes were all tarnished; even his one boot. A bundle of prisoners that the others had brought back, he came in like the devil, looming out of the black. _

_His eyes, how they glared! His expression so scary! His cheeks green and slimy, and was his nose there? Barely! His thin-lipped little mouth was drawn down like a bow, and the whites of his eyes were as cold as the snow! _

_The stump of a pipe held tight in his teeth, and the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath – he had a tentacled face like a monster off the telly; the way that he looked turned most men's legs to jelly! _

_He was an ill-humoured chump, I'd hoped for Christmas elves; the doomed men cried when they saw him, in spite of themselves. A glare of his eye and a twist of the head, soon gave them to know that they were all dead. _

_He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, I cried, "You ruined Christmas, you big stupid jerk!" The other captain was wounded, bleeding from the nose, and with a final nod, up the stairs Davy rose. _

_Maccus turned to the crew, and he gave but a whistle, and the crew were cut down, full of gore, full of gristle! And I heard Davy chuckle as he strode out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" _

----------

You can probably tell that our Christmas didn't go according to plan.

----------

The next day was Christmas day, and we were all _exhausted_. We'd spent all night battling and killing after all. So much for a nice rest! What happened to, 'you can have a day off on Christmas'?! Stupid Davy and his stupidness. We woke up, yawning, and it was almost midday; we'd missed half of Christmas! However, once we'd pulled ourselves together, I started doing my pathetic excuse of cooking a Christmas meal, and the men started pulling out rum from all sorts of place.

(I wont go into that now...)

The deck was still awash with the blood of the crew we'd slaughtered last night... I shook my head at Davy when I saw him. Tut, tut! He'd wiped out an entire vessel, on Christmas Eve too! Where was his sense of compassion?! Probably wherever his heart was. With a small sigh, I shook my head and wandered into what was basically the mess hall, a few long tables and a bunch of chairs, pretty much.

"Dinner is served..." I said, with an apologetic giggle. The food wasn't exactly top-rate, but the men, half-asleep, dug into it without complaint; which wasn't like normal. "Why's everyone so limp today, eh? It's Christmas!" I reminded them.

"Bibsy, we was up all night in sea battle, and we've spent all mornin' cleanin' up the mess, fixin' bits o' the ship, swabbin', sailin', and loads of other stuff," Koleniko muttered sleepily, scooping some food into his mouth without even waiting to taste it; tender turkey covered in luscious gravy that I had pored over for a long time, doing my best to make it the most wonderful Christmas ever.

"Ooh, present time, present time!" I cried, clapping my hands together in glee. They all looked at me as if I were mad, and went back to eating. Gone were the usual shouts and bits of food flying through the air; the laughter and the chattering and the bickering. They were just here to munch on their food, before leaving to go and collapse somewhere.

Christmas sucked.

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**NB:** Tadah! Thank you, thank you very much, that was my poetic debut, I'm here until thursday... snortsnort. If you haven't heard of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas', I would go and look it up now. Mean, mean old Davy, ruining Christmas! But that's just typical, eh?

Thanks again Lone Wolf! Yipee! I like you very much, so this chapter is coming out early, just for you. Much love.


	3. Chap 3: Moonwalks and Chocolate

**3) Moonwalks and Chocolate**

"The hills are alive... with the sounds of _muuuusic_..." I sang heartily, with about as much tune as an organic watering can. Which is not very much. I swished the wet rag over the deck, making sure to keep it going in a straight line. Then, I had a brainwave. I clambered down so I was sitting on my bum, and then began attaching the wet rags to my feet. "This is so much simpler..." I said to myself.

"Don't even try it," Another deck-swabber sighed to me.

"Oh, Urchin, don't have such doubts," I said to him, rising to my feet gracefully. Ish. "This is a genius idea, and it shall save me much time! And all with the power of MJ!" I smiled gleefully as I began doing a crap moonwalk across the deck, wet rags a-scooshing.

A few crewmembers looked up to watch. I didn't mind though; I'd gotten somewhat used to being centre of attention. In fact, I liked it. I demonstrated a little twirl. They all seemed reluctant to admit to the greatness of my plan. I guess it didn't really work if you just walked across the deck, but moonwalking was another matter altogether.

"Just try it, it's fine," I reassured them.

And, ten minutes later, there was a _very_ odd scene happening on the top deck of the _Flying Dutchman_...

----------

"Oh, Palafico!" I called to him, sweetly. I love saying his name; it's best to say it proudly with an Italian accent, palla-FEEK-oh! "Do you mind helping me with something a minute, dearest?" I asked in a really wheedling voice. He rolled his eyes, something he ended up doing a lot around me, putting his two swords down on top of a crate and coming towards me, flexing his fingers with loud cracks that sounded cringe worthy.

"More grunt work?" He asked me, but I know he didn't mind really. He's mental, is my buddy oh pal; it's like he _enjoys_ doing hard work. Well, most of the time, anyway. I just had to twitter something about a barrel being too heavy for my poor little hands, and though he'd complain that I was just using him and probably only his friend for the lifting work, he'd do it anyway.

It's just the way he is. Poor, lovely, easily manipulated Palafico! But I did love him so; my bestest chum. Ish. Well, I told you, everything is pretty screwy on the _Dutchman_...

"Thank you, buddy oh pal!" I said, clasping my hands like a young girl on her first date, fluttering my eyelashes. He turned towards me, and I couldn't help noticing his weird eyes again. How on earth did he see? He seemed to manage it, but how was completely beyond me. He has these weird anemone things that move around as eyes! And he was pretty much made of coral reef; which made expressions slow to spread on his face, sometimes. Or perhaps he was just naturally impassive.

"That's fine," He said, sounding somewhat uncertain. He doesn't really know what do with compliments and thanks. I guess he doesn't really receive them often; on the _Dutchman_, they are a pretty much extinct species. I blinked at him, and he did his weird equivalent of blinking back to me. There was a small silence. I hate those, don't you?! Gauche.

"After the barrels, Jimmy's like, telling to, whatever, you know..." I said, somewhat vaguely. He seemed surprised for a minute, and then shook his head, stepping away from me like I was infected with some disease. Charming simile there.

"Got to get back to... everything... too..." He said. Then we both left, in pretty much opposite directions. I pulled a face once we were away from each other. Sooo weird. Friendships weren't exactly endorsed on the _Dutchman_; Davy liked everyone to feel isolated in their own little hell. Which was just charming. So it was awkward sometimes.

(I was such an idiot.)

----------

Davy and me, as a rule, did not get on. I don't really know why. Maybe he hates women after his heartbreaking experience? Maybe he thinks I'm too loud? Too bossy? Too... me? Then again, if he didn't like loud and bossy, then he probably would _hate_ Jimmylegs... grr...

"This ship is alive," He'd told me once, "And you will treat it accordingly." Did he let me off for kicking the walls a few times with just a warning? Nooo, of course not. He had to go and order for more lashes from the cat. Yeah, if the cat were a person, we'd know each other so well we'd not only be on a first-name basis, but we would probably be confiding in each other our deepest, darkest secrets.

Also, he said I gave him cheek. Pah! Cheek?! The only times I decide to be truly honest, and I get whipped for it! Can you blame me for lying sometimes? And he _always_ set me impossible tasks, such as the barrel moving. He knows I'm a puny weakling of a girl. But what does he do? Oh yes, move the cannons, exchange the barrels, pull up the anchor, blah, blah, blah. I mean, how double mean with knobs on is that?

"Ugh," I muttered, wiping sweat from my brow after a particularly hard bit of lifting. I _hated_ grunt work... well, whenever there wasn't a friendly face around to do it for me, anyway.

"Bibsy," Clanker said to me, nodding towards the other side of the deck, "The captain said starboard... and that's, uh..." Oh. The _complete opposite direction_. Well, thank you Davy, thank you very much. Grrrrr. I was feeling mean that day, no matter how deeply I breathed and counted in my head.

"Oh, god," I said through gritted teeth, "I hate this place." The organ was blaring, covering everything, making conversation hard to hear. Rain was pouring down, mingling with the sweat that was pouring down my face, soaking my hair flat to my skull. "And I hate Davy. Ooh, yeah, you hear that, you bastard?! I _hate_ you!" I shouted, kicking a crate, and causing immense pain to myself, making myself swear even more. I knew he could hear me, but he ignored me anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jimmy raised an eyebrow and mouth 'half-moon' to a few other crewmembers, who all nodded knowingly, with various 'aah's. This did _not_ sweeten my mood any more then before.

----------

"I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero in the dead of night!" I was singing again. Well, why not? I missed my modern music. And that is a lot of 'm's. "And he's got to be strong, and he's got to be tough, and he's got to be larger then life, larger then life!" I lifted my arm outwards, serenading some random passing crewmember, who looked slightly harassed before moving on. "Ooh, I need a hero!" I don't know if the words were right or not. But it didn't matter, because nobody could really correct me.

Palafico was exchanging looks with Oglivey. I leapt in between them, still singing loudly. Then I did a little spin on the spot, finishing the song with a flourish. Palafico just laughed.

"Oh, I love Shrek," I laughed, remembering that it had been that movie where I'd first heard the song.

"Shrek? What sort of a name is Shrek?" Palafico asked.

"An ultra-cool one, Pally," I said, good-naturedly. He just furrowed his brow.

----------

Of course, on board the _Dutchman_, highly intellectual discussions involving controversial issues took place too. Such as homosexuals, and the high rate of homophobia in these times.

"Men who love men, are freaks," Jimmylegs said, eloquently.

"Jimmy, that is so non-PC!" I exclaimed. Hah, let's see him try to work that one out. He just gave me an odd look though. "Oh, come on, Jimmy," I said, trying another approach, "You're stuck on a ship full of men... and there are all of those long, lonely nights..." I started snickering at that point.

"That's disgusting," Angler commented.

"So's your _face_!" I said, putting my hands on my hips and saying it in a really whiny, three-year-old voice. According to Scrubs, that is the comeback to everything ever possible. There were a few chuckles, and Angler rolled his eyes.

"It's just not nat'ral like, though, is it?" Jimmy persisted with his point. And I could see a lot of the men agreed with him.

"Political correctness is a shambles in this day and age," I sighed. "You guys are so immature! Homophobia is _gay_."

----------

"What do _you_ miss most about your past life, Bibsy?" Wheelback asked me. This was our latest topic of conversation; still depressing, but what could you do? There had been quite a few answers; some of them simple, some of them strange, some sweet, and some of them x-rated, ooer. I leaned back, thinking for a minute.

"Music," I said, and a few – no, a lot of the crewmembers groaned, probably afraid I was going to burst into song again – but I continued regardless, "And probably chocolate. Oh, for the heavenly taste of chocolate!" I sighed to myself. I'd been getting dangerously skinny on board the _Dutchman_ – there wasn't much to eat, and absolutely _no_ chocolate, or any sugar, full stop. I was getting all sorts of cravings for them! Sometimes, badly-cooked shrimp just doesn't cut it...

"Chocolate? Cocoa beans?" Palafico asked me. I nodded, and he seemed to think about this.

"Brat," Ratlin muttered, rubbing his hands together over a small lantern. Ratlin is a creepy-looking one, even by _our_ standards. Sort of. He's buddies with Greenbeard, who is about the oldest one here; he's barely human, nothing more then a seaweed monster thing, and it's a wonder Ratlin understands him, really; everything Greenbeard says sounds like snarls to me.

"Brat?!" I exclaimed, "I'm not a brat!"

"Ooh, I miss my _chocolate_," Ratlin said in a high-pitched imitation of me. I thought back to a history lesson once, about the Aztecs, when they said that chocolate had been rare and used as currency by some of them, and how only the very rich could afford to melt it down into chocolate. Maybe it was still as rare now? Was this before or after the Aztecs? Ahh... confusing. I wish I'd paid more attention in history sometimes.

It could be quite problematic, knowing history, but not knowing _when_ it was. Keeping track of everything was hell. So, there's an excuse to not pay attention in history class; you might get teleported back in time and confuse yourself to smithereens.

----------

_"Good times, huh?" Bibsy asked Palafico, laughing. "I miss Davy though. Sometimes." _

_"Hmm..." Palafico cocked his head. He looked different in human form. Much younger, much more innocent – hah! But his eyes; they were still the same. Large and dark and full of wisdom, which he may or may not have possessed. _

_"It wasn't all sunshine though, was it?" Bibsy asked, rather suddenly. Because she preferred to remember the good times, the happy times. But there were mighty dark times on the _Dutchman_ too, evil times, terrible times. Times when cries of pain and fear echoed around the dark hull, and black blood trickled across sodden wood, and there was confusion and terror and hate, and the strongest will to be able to die; somehow. _

_"But who wants to think about those times?" Palafico said, looking downwards, at the decking. Even though they'd joined the crew at the same time, Bibsy always got the feeling he knew a lot more then her about it. He was just one of those people. Bibsy gave a small smile, simply shaking her head in reply. Sometimes, there just weren't words to describe it..._

* * *

**NB:** Heh, it's minimal reaction time again. All of my stories so far have taken a while to get off the ground... oh well, as long as some people are reading it. Yeahh, I see the 85 hits. And also, I see you Rokhal, adding this story to your alerts... I'm onto you... I'm being weird again. Apologies.

Anyway, sorry about the homophobia bit if it offends anyone. It's just... back in those days, things were like that, and all. Disclaimer of the day: "Holding Out for a Hero" performed by Jennifer Saunders and Frou Frou, lyrics not mine, etc. And also, the poem in the previous chapter was by Clemente Clarke Moore, his work, not mine. Well, I did... _change_ it a little. But it was based on his poem.

Soooo... byebye.


	4. Chap 4: Macky Hammer

**4) Macky Hammer**

My first ever battle... ah, yes. I know that I'd had to sort of tell people that I was quite handy with a sword, but, well; the closest I'd come to it was fencing at summer camp. Which is, well, something quite different entirely. Of course, Palafico saw right through me. He always did. He had two swords, one in either hand, and I reached out, assuming one was for me.

"You go and get your sword from below decks, in the weapons locker," Palafico said, holding his swords away from me as if afraid I'd break them. I blinked, and then nodded and trotted off down below decks. A few crewmembers were down there, chattering as they picked up bits of weapons – axes, ball and chains, all sorts. I reached onto the wall, and picked up a broadsword; the second it came away from the wall, it thudded down to the ground, nearly bringing me down with it.

"Christ, these things are heavy!" I exclaimed, both of my hands straining to lift it off of the floor. A crewmember called Piper turned to me, and one-handedly lifted it up as if weighted little more then a straw. I scowled at him, and a few crewmembers laughed. Jimmy turned, and loped up to me, shaking his head.

"Pathetic," He leered, pulling a smaller sword from a shelf that had been too high for me, and slamming it into my hands. This one was much easier to carry.

"Don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful," I replied. Jimmy only grunted in reply, and he walked off, ready for battle. I looked down at my sword. "I shall name you Georgie, and we will be best friends for ever!" I declared. Some of the crewmembers were giving me the 'you're a nutcase' look, so I decided to hurry up back to the top decks. I stood on tiptoes and spun around three-hundred and sixty degrees, searching for Palafico. Then I hopped off, recognizing his shock of bright hair... hair-type coral, anyway.

"Hello!" I said brightly, waving Georgie around. Palafico looked at my sword, as if wondering why it was there. I looked to his swords; mine was dwarfed in comparison. In fact, mine was probably less then half the size of his. Then he looked at me.

"You've never used a sword in your life, have you?" He asked me, bluntly.

----------

"Your left hand goes lower... lower... end of the hilt, Bibsy!" Palafico was attempting to teach me how to even _hold_ the damned thing. "You are so hopeless," He sighed, as I wriggled my hand lower and higher to his instructions. What the hell? Why did it have to be so precise? I looked to his hand to see if I could copy the way he was holding it, but he had one in each hand, so it was a little hard to do so.

"Is this right?" I asked him, sliding my hand downwards.

"No," He replied, "Don't make me put my swords down and have to actually _show_ you, please," I glared at him, but got back to being told what to do, until it was in the right-ish place. I could tell that he was pretty certain I was dead meat. "Keep the end of the hilt around waist-height," He said, and I raised the sword higher, "Yes, there," He tilted his head, "And when you go into the fight, you can take your left hand off, and if you..."

"What? I spent all of that time learning to hold it, and I don't even need to have it like that most of the time?" I asked him, incredulously.

"Bibsy, what do you know about sword fighting?" He asked me, patiently.

"Uh, nothing," I replied, glancing around in case Maccus was listening in.

"Well then. Do what I say," He said, and reluctantly I nodded. "Now you... this is just pointless, I'll teach you later, it's too busy now," He gestured around, and he was right. Crewmembers were everywhere, steadying ropes, dimming lights, getting ready for battle. "Don't worry, these battles should be a pushover; the opposition are going to be half-dead anyway. These are... just in case precautions."

"Great," I said. I didn't have a 'just in case precaution'. I was going to get skewered into Bibsy-kebab!

"Just stick with me," Palafico said at last, rolling his eyes, "I guess I'll have to help you out."

"Thank you, buddy oh pal," I said, giving him my bestest smile. He gave me his 'I'm far too nice to you, chum' look, but I could tell he was pleased really.

----------

It's always been the same way. No matter how much I improved at sword fighting (which I'm afraid to say wasn't all that much), I always got nervy just before a fight. It was like stage fright; I started getting a bit jittery, wondering if everything was going to be okay. And no matter how much I told myself that it was going to be fine, I couldn't even die – I got nervous anyway.

And, on the _Dutchman_, you _could_ die. Sort of. It's a complicated thing; there's the obvious 'becoming part of the ship' thing, which only happens to the truly desolate and hopeless. I try to avoid it happening to anyone I know at all costs, but keeping the mood up is hard on a ship that pretty much rotates around death. Like Wyvern... ah, he kept me company down in the cells. But he's wasting away; becoming nothing more then a mural on the wall of below-decks. It's terrible.

Also, if you got chopped up into lots of tiny pieces, then there's a big chance that you wont recover in a hurry. So yes, we're immortal, but at the same time... not. There are certain things that can kill us. One of the worst is being sucked under in the sea; you'll sink and sink and never get the energy to swim and you'll hit the bottom and... you'll never be seen again.

Battle nerves... argh, I hated them. But they happened anyway.

----------

Maccus. I never did get on with him. He was a part of the 'elite squad' on board the ship... you know. This little gang that hang around sometimes. They play liars dice together, talk together, they're like a little clique in their own right. Maccus, the first mate, Koleniko, one of the coxswain, Clanker, a good fighter, Jimmylegs, the boatswain – bo'sun to some – and, of course, Palafico. Since his promotion to Davy's personal guard, he's become much more respected.

"Near... far... _where-ever _you are..." I sang in my impersonation of Celine Dion. I was in a Titanic mood that day, what more can I say? At this point, however, Maccus, on his way past, gave me a clip around the ear. Or at least, what _he_ fondly imagines is called a clip around the ear. Which is a dire understatement. I do not think he clipped me around the ear – _bashed my head in_ would have been more appropriate.

"Stop yer singing," He growled as he passed.

"Ou-uch!" I whined, "No need to smash my skull! You're just jealous of my amazing singing skills anyway," I stuck my nose up, and a few crewmembers snickered. Maccus turned to face me, slowly. He didn't like me very much. Probably because he liked people to be scared of him. And I was too stupid – er, brave, to be scared of anyone.

"Shut up, Ward," He snapped. He was the only one around here that called me 'Ward', my last name.

"Ooh, get you, Macky H," I said, snapping my fingers around my head. He took a step closer to me; and that should've been warning enough. He was tall, brawny, and had enough strength in one hand to knock all of the breath out of me in one strike.

"Next person to call me... no, even _mention_ 'Macky H' gets a floggin'," He hissed. He didn't really appreciate the nickname I'd thought up for him. I guess Macky Hammer just doesn't have the same ring to it as Maccus. I gave him a bright smile. He stayed right where he was, his eyes narrowed. On his face, he only had one eye; I remember seeing the other one clawed out by Wyvern. But he had two others on the side of his hammerhead shark head, so no point in feeling bad for him.

"What?" I asked him, as he glared at me for another few seconds.

"I'm just waiting for you to say it, so I can beat you," He smirked.

"Say what?" I asked innocently. He gave me a serious 'I-hate-you' look, but ignored my question.

"Get back to work," He growled, turning to heel and leaving. I rolled my eyes at his back, and then turned and started tying up the rope I was meant to be on duty with, but I ended up more manhandling it then actual sailing. I wasn't that good.

"Silly Macky Hammer..." I muttered, softly. His footsteps stopped.

Damn. He'd _known_ how I'd react to his challenge, hadn't he?

----------

"You're terrible in battle, Bibsy," Finnegan said to me one evening, it was after a battle, and some of us were nursing various wounds. This crew hadn't gone down easily... and not only that, but _none_ of them had decided to join our dear crew, which made it even more annoying. It had been for nothing! Well, the blighters were dead, but apart from that, nothing. "When I say cover me back... _cover_ it!"

"I'm sorry, my dear Finnie," I said, and I really was. I'd let one of them gauge a hole in his side. I'd gotten better since my first battle, but I still failed miserably compared to most of the others. I finished dabbing the blood off of the wound, which I had been tending to with as much medical knowledge as I could spare, which wasn't much, and looked up at him. He just gave me a nod, looking weary.

Palafico didn't have a single scratch on him – as was usual. Palafico managed to protect himself from harm, and usually me at the same time. And he didn't do stupid things like put his trust in me... argh! I felt so bad about Finnegan. Palafico was sitting on a barrel now, and he'd been quiet for a while, though occasionally he would express sympathy to one of our more injured comrades.

"Do you secretly hate me or something?" Finnegan asked, running his fingers over the now-clean (ish) wound. I looked at the rag, now blackened with blood, and I put it down on a crate behind me, and shook my head at him.

"Of course I don't hate you, Finnegan," I said, clasping my hands together, "I _lurve_ you!"

"Oh god," Finnegan rolled his eyes.

"But Finnie! Don't you love me too?" I asked him, pretending to be hurt.

"Bibsy, sorry, but it wouldn't work. You're too stupid," He snickered.

----------

It was only a few days after that that this scene occurred. Finnegan was walking along, he was okay now; things seem to heal quite quickly on the _Dutchman_... or we just had to toughen up a lot and suck up the pain. Whichever it was, Finnegan seemed fine, just a little jumpy about someone walking into him. Which is just what Palafico did, their shoulders jarring.

"Oof! What was that for?!" Finnegan snarled.

"Accident," Palafico muttered, turning and walking off again. I raised my eyebrows at Finnegan. Hmm!

----------

_Palafico looked a bit embarrassed at this point. Bibsy just laughed, shaking her head at him. Over-protective? Why, yes, yes he was. But she didn't mind too much. In fact, she thought it was sort of cure... but she didn't say that out loud, it would probably only embarrass him more. Bless his little cotton socks! Thinking back to those times was like thinking back to schooldays; when you were young and stupid and didn't do any harm._

* * *

**NB:** Haha... yay, stalkers are fun! It's that time again... I do not own the 'Sounds of Music', blah. I wasn't too sure about adding those last two sections in. I think I am putting far too much, 'Bibsy is blind, Palafico is shy, and this is turning into a squishy romance' scenes. I'll try to cut them out from now on... heh.

I'm glad that you two enjoy it. By the way, the bits in italics which are in the third person, they basically pick up right where the last story led off, and there will be stuff happening in those bits too... in the telling of old stories, a new one is born... haha, that's in the summary. But not much is happening at the moment.


	5. Chap 5: Sword Skills

**5) Sword Skills **

Now, in _my_ times – the future, I guess; or the present, argh, whatever! – mostly, men's heads revolve around one single thing. Not football. The _other_ thing. Oh, how things were different back in these times! Even a small kiss is a humungous deal, and done rarely by anyone other then engaged or married couples. And hugs... were family things. But how was _I_ to know?

"Big hug!" I would cry, in imitation of the teletubbies, and then I would promptly wrap my arms around the shoulders of the nearest crewmember. They would usually look rather alarmed, and sometimes uncomfortable, as if they were thinking, _okay, you can let go of me now..._

"I've heard of pirates who capture ships, and then rape all of the women on board," I said, as conversation was drifting onto piracy that particular day. I paused at this point. "_You_ don't do that, do you?" I asked, suddenly. I was never embarrassed to ask any questions, no matter how... well, icky they were. My tactlessness sometimes makes me cringe to this day.

"Of course we don't, that's-" One of the Twins started, but they were interrupted.

"What do you think we are?!" Demanded Morey, scowling at me, "A lot of us were decent merchant sailors... we're not all _pirates_." A few of them had been pirates; but Morey was right, a lot of them had been honourable men. I smiled apologetically.

"Sorry... I don't really think before I talk..." I said. This was one of my more mature moments. "I just got this notion, you know... _Grab your ankles and pray!_" I growled the last bit in gruff imitation of Clanker. There was laughter from the others, including Clanker, I hasten to add.

"Jimmy were a pirate," Koleniko said, nodding towards him, "Same with Maccus, an' me." He glanced around, and we all noted that the pirates seemed to be the ones on board with the highest promotions... Maybe pirates just had that edge to them. Maybe Davy was biased towards them. I wondered if Davy had been a pirate himself.

"Jerome Legs! Pirate, huh? Naughty, naughty," I said, wagging a finger.

"His last name isn't Legs, actually," Penrod said, blinking each of his eyes separately, "Jimmylegs... is like a... disorder. Where you thrash around in your sleep." I turned to Jimmy, who was keeping schtum. He looked grumpy, as usual, his piranha-like mouth jeering. I gave him my best 'I know all of your secrets now, mate' look, with a small smile. Nightmares, huh? I wondered what Jimmy had nightmares about. And I decided, for once, and I wouldn't ask about it.

"Were you a pirate, Palafico?" I asked, instead, turning to my friend.

"No," He said, after a short pause, "Just a sailor." Well, looked like he'd managed to climb the ranks despite not being a pirate! I wondered if I'd be able to do the same... no, probably not. I already had too much of a reputation as – well, an idiot.

----------

"There have been too many complaints about your fighting skills, girlie," Davy's cold eyes bored into me, making me want to step backwards, but I resisted it. I just looked as docile as I could manage. "Though I understand that Palafico has been trying to train you up," He smirked at me.

"Yes, captain," I replied meekly. I felt sort of rubbishy that day, and didn't want much of a fight. Which was just bad luck for me, really.

"So," Davy drew out a rusted broadsword, flicking it deftly, so the end pointed straight at my throat; I couldn't help but wince backwards as his sword came out. I tried not to show it, but I was getting a bit panicky. Oh my god! Was he going to kill me, just because I couldn't fight? I did try my best, after all. And anyway, who's been complaining about my fighting skills? Ah, yes, it was my best ever friend Macky Hammer, wasn't it? Grr.

"So...?" I prompted him, swallowing. His sword didn't move from my throat.

"Draw your weapon," He said, slowly. I was about to say that I kept it down below decks, when I remembered Palafico giving my a huge belt with a sheath on, and thrusting Georgie into it, before telling me that Davy wanted to see me. Hmm, had he somehow known what Davy was going to do? Or perhaps they'd discussed it... Palafico was his personal guard, after all. But Palafico always said to me that there was no sense of companionship between him and Davy; he was just someone to take the bullets meant for Davy, so to speak.

"Oh dear," I said quietly to myself, reaching down for the sheath. The belt it was on, meant for bulky men, went nearly three times around my undernourished waist, and I remembered Palafico having to punch extra holes in the belt with a pin, before doing up the buckle and standing back to admire his handiwork. Palafico is so logical, it scares me sometimes, honest to god. You know those stupid, and really simple things that you _always_ forget, or don't think of? Well, my buddy oh pal is one of those people that immediately think of them, and makes everyone feel stupid. He's rather... different, is Palafico.

The second Georgie was out of his sheath, Davy ran the sharp end of his sword across my neck and the gills that had developed there, leaving a faint red line. I leapt away from him, half shocked, half angry, my hand flying to my neck.

"Ouch, you scrotum! What was that for?!" I demanded. "I wasn't ready!"

"Your sword is out, so you should be ready," Davy said, somewhat impatiently, coming out from behind a navigation table that he'd been holding the sword out across. Now we were pretty much face to face. And I thought... _damn_! Because Davy is a well known master swordsman. He is one of the best in the world, apparently. And now he was going to beat the hell out of me for the fun of it, maybe even kill me! He stood, peacefully, the end of his sword lifted slightly. "Attack me," He smirked.

"Hmmph... I'll try not to do _too _much damage," I said, jokingly, but inside I was quaking. He laughed once – short, and spiteful – and waited. I raised my sword over my head and brought it slashing downwards; with an almost lazy flick of his sword, he blocked it.

"Too obvious, runt," He said, "I could see what you were going to do the second you raised it. You also left yourself completely open to attack while your sword was over your head." He said it simply as if he were observing something; perhaps a hint of contempt, and the definite feel of being scolded. I bit my lip, and held the sword in front of me, scowling.

I brought my elbow back, and thrust Georgie forwards in a jab, right at his stomach. Again, he deflected it with a single flip of his sword, making it seem unbearably easy. I frowned at him, and he just gave me a triumphant look. I knew he was goading me, trying to make my attacks more ferocious so he had, well, _something_ to fight against, but I decided I would take it in my stride. I would not let him get to me...

"Get angrier," He said, and then suddenly jabbed his sword towards me – it stopped about a centimetre from my face. "You have no passion whatsoever, do you know that?" He sneered down at me, and god did I hate him then. Fine, fine! I _would_ get angry. With a crash, I brought Georgie to his sword, forcing it away from my face. He was a lot stronger then me, but allowed me to push his sword out of the way with an amused look on his face.

"Don't you have better things to do then pick fights with girls?" I asked him through gritted teeth.

"Plenty. This is more for your benefit then mine," He replied. Yeah, as if. I could see he was enjoying making me feel incompetent. Payback for all of the times I'd called him 'Squidward', quite probably. I started attacking him; sending in strike after strike, each of which he easily batted away, seeming to become almost bored. We were making no progress here.

I had one of my hair-brained ideas, again. As I attacked and he easily defended, practically yawning, I began flicking my eyes – from him to just over his right shoulder. Again, and again. I let a small smile come onto my face. His expression became more serious; aha! Was he suspicious yet? Probably not, but there was only one way to find out. I allowed the smile on my face to widen into a smirk, still looking over his right shoulder at nothing, before looking back to his face again. I would never be able to do this in a real fight, because the second I looked away from their sword, they'd probably run me through. But since Davy wasn't attacking...

And then; there it was! His head flickered every so slightly to the right... With a cry of 'Aha!' I leapt forwards, managing to jab the very edge of Georgie into his shoulder, but before I could start feeling overwhelmed with guilt, he brought the flat side of his sword around on my face with a clang, which shot me backwards into a wall. Georgie was still in my hand; it had barely made a scratch.

"That hit wouldn't have harmed a baby," He sneered, "But, seeing as you managed to get _something_ on me... I guess that means I can't kill you yet." I had no idea if he was joking or not. You just can't tell with Davy. "Try harder... don't embarrass yourself and Palafico, for gods sake. I don't know why he's taken a shine to a moron like you, but you're just lucky he did. Otherwise you'd most probably be _dead_." He said that last word full of malice.

"I think it's my charming personality and dazzling smile," I said, doing an exaggerated head-toss.

"Just... get out of here," Davy waved a claw at the door, and I made my exit, though I did sneak a peek at Davy; he had his back to me, and was standing still, his head pointed towards his shoulder, where I'd – well, prodded him. He was probably looking very disbelieving, wondering if he was getting old, letting a small'un like me even touch him with my sword.

But I do like to think he was smiling.

* * *

**NB:** Ah, I love doing scenes with Davy and Bibsy in them... hate-hate... And thank you for the reviews, Flipper Boid Skua, I'm glad that you went more into the story then just, "good plz carry on". I like to get feedback, criticism and all sorts... Hope you like this chapter.


	6. Chap 6: Depression

**6) Depression **

"Did Davy slap you or something?" Palafico asked me, as soon as he saw me.

"What?" I asked.

"Your left cheek is bright red," Palafico looked from my cheek to my eyes again, as I rubbed a hand over my cheek self-consciously. Damn, it stung, but I hadn't known it had gone scarlet! I took a deep breath, trying not to let the pain get to me. And then I smiled.

"No, he didn't slap me," I sighed. I remembered Davy's words about Palafico; how I was _so incredibly lucky_ that Palafico had 'taken a shine to me'. Huh. Wrong again, Jones! Friendship isn't a one-way thing, you know! I knew that some people – Maccus, in other words – wondered why Palafico, one of the few _Dutchman_ success stories, would ever waste their breath on even talking to a small squeak of a girl like me. That is probably because those people – Maccus – didn't really know much about friendship. And didn't have any friends... _Maccus_.

My lovely Macky H was a special case, though; he probably _used_ to have friends. Used to be normal. Used to be a person with human values, and the need for friends and happiness. But over the years, they've been stripped away from him – his humanity is long gone, his compassion and charity melted away into nothing. His yellow eyes flicker around at us, and he doesn't see people; he sees things, objects. Nonentities. He thinks that because he has hardly any emotion left, it's the same for us.

But he's wrong. And Maccus isn't a completely hopeless case yet, like Davy likes to think. I can see him sometimes, when he's not doing anything, biting his lip with his sharp sharky teeth, causing blood; his mouth is permanently stained with his own bleeding. But he never notices it when he's there, just chewing on his lip, his eyes sort of glazed.

"Don't bite your lip, Maccus," I said once, not being able to bear one more second of watching him peel the skin off of his lips with his teeth. It made me cringe! I don't think Maccus can even remember his past life, his human life. He snapped out of his trance, and shot me an evil look, before turning and walking off. And I worry about him sometimes; well, all of the _Dutchman_ crew. They all had this sense of... hopelessness about them. And I didn't know what to do about it...

Why wasn't I all weeping and emo? Well, I guess... I didn't actually miss my old life _too_ much. And, even after all of those years, it still felt sort of surreal, you know? Like it wasn't really happening. It _was_ a bit unbelievable, you have to admit. And I've always been quite an upbeat person, and all of that time, I was planning on returning home anyway. I was plotting, plotting, and getting on Davy's nerves in the process. And anyway, I was a little bit mad.

So I tried to keep the mood up. _Always_. But it was an impossible task, and I was fighting a losing battle...

----------

"Bibs?" I turned around, to see Palafico standing there, looking slightly apprehensive, and slightly harassed, like he was wondering why on earth he was doing this.

"Yes, my dear?" I replied. He held up a small tin container with a lid on, inches in front of my face. I blinked. He pushed it closer to me, and I finally took it, looking down at it. Giving him a questioning look, I opened it. There was a strong smell coming from it, and inside, there were lots of... well, what looked like brown beans. I raised my eyebrow at him. "Thank you, Palafico, but what on earth is it?"

"It's cocoa," He said, looking surprised that I didn't know. I looked down at the tin, and then to his earnest face. It clicked. _Oh, for the heavenly taste of chocolate..._

"I... thanks," I stammered, "Thanks a lot." _But this isn't chocolate,_ I wanted to say to him, _these are cocoa beans. They're not the same thing. I don't know how to turn this into chocolate._ But I looked at him, and felt that it would have been incredibly cruel to say this. It wasn't his fault he didn't know the slightest thing about cookery.

"I just... found 'em on the last raid..." He said, shrugging one shoulder, and rubbing one of his arms. I smiled at him.

"I'd hug you, but you all seem to hate it when I do that," I sighed. He made a noncommittal noise, and turned to leave. "Oh, and Palafico?" I called out. He turned to look at me, with a small smile, "February fourteenth was months ago!" He looked confused, but nodded uncertainly anyway, his smile gone, and his expression solemn again, as usual. And then he left.

I put the lid on the tin carefully, and hugged it close to my chest. It made me feel sad, for some reason. I'd keep it safe, even if it was nothing more then a useless tin full of inedible beans.

----------

What possessions did I have? Well, you would have thought I had none at all. I had near enough that, anyway. But next to my bunk, stuffed down behind one of the crates, were my worldly goods, hidden away from prying eyes and the hideous questions; _what's this for? What does this do? Why do you have these?_ And... etc. There was a small pile of rags, cushioning the top and bottom. There was a lock of blonde hair that I'd cut from the bottom of my hair; the dyed bit. There was a waterlogged phone and a broken mp3 player. A pair of green converses that didn't fit me any more. Some matches. I kept Georgie on the top of the crate when I slept. And now, a small, rusting tin, full of cocoa beans.

They seemed incredibly meagre, when I came to it. I'd gone from having myself a phone, an mp3, a computer on which I chatted to my friends on msn, a room to myself, with a bed and wardrobe full of clothes, a _hot shower_, make-up and my favourite teddy bear and hair straighteners. And now, everything I owned could be stuffed in the small gap between a crate and the wall.

The odd thing is, I found that I didn't really mind that much.

----------

"How did you come to be so mellow, Palafico?" I asked him one day. He looked up, and gave a questioning look, like he was asking me what I meant. "Like... you're so subdued nowadays. Quiet and submissive." I guess he'd always been a bit like that; sort of serious, but recently he'd changed; bit by bit so it had snuck up on me. He didn't have much fight to him any more.

"I'm not like that," He said with a small frown. I raised my eyebrows at him. He looked sort of hopeless for a moment, and then shrugged, looking downwards.

"Palafico..." I stared at him. It was happening, like it had happened to everyone around me. The _Dutchman_ was taking him – taking him and changing him. I didn't want it to happen to him though. He was my best friend. But I could see it, in his weary expression, his downwards posture; it was getting to him, the extreme blues. It was odd on the _Dutchman_... it was like the crewmembers suddenly lost hope. But not Palafico. I couldn't let it happen to him.

"It's nothing," He said with a shrug. I sat down on the crate next to where he was sitting, his eyes fixed to the floor, as if there were a small television down there and he was intent on seeing what happened next. But there was none; he just stared at the ground.

"Palafico," I repeated, putting one hand on his shoulder. He looked to up to me, and I gave him the brightest smile I could manage. He just looked at me for a moment – but then slowly, almost hesitantly, he smiled back at me, though he seemed uncertain as to why he was doing so, and I said to him, "Don't lose hope, please. It's happened to everyone else. I don't want to be the only sane one."

"The only sane one?" He asked; and his tone was light again, and it was just like back when he'd been new on the _Dutchman_, still in wonderment of it all, and still strong enough to fight back the terror, the terror of spending a century on here, slowly becoming part of the ship, until there was nothing left of him. I don't want this turning into an angst story, so I'll stop it there.

But it scared me, the thought of Palafico being depressed.

---------

_Bibsy looked up, straight into light brown eyes, that glinted almost yellow in the light. She stood up, her hands on her hips, tilting her head, examining this man closely. He was quite tall, well-built and rather handsome, with a deep scar over one side of the bridge of his nose and an eye patch on. She nodded at him, slowly, as if finally making up her mind. _

_"You're Macky Hammer," She said with a grin. He blinked, but then gave a small smile. _

_"I actually go by Marcus these days," He replied, lightly. Bibsy was surprised; his voice was different. The harsh, grating tones had turned into a somewhat soft voice, with a hint of upper class accent in it. She nodded at him, still smiling. And she was delighted to see him smile back at her. Bright happiness at the end of a chapter called 'Depression' was always a good thing._

* * *

**NB:** Hmm! A rather downbeat chapter today. Just saying, not all times on the _Dutchman_ were good times... in fact, most of them weren't. But this is meant to be a memory of the fun times, so don't worry, there wont be that much sadness, hopefully.


	7. Chap 7: Strung Up

**7) Strung Up **

The lone tentacle came out of the dark water, reaching up, towards the _Dutchman_. Davy stood at the edge of the ship, looking as the tentacle wavered in the air, next to him. Then, the tip came downwards slightly in an arc, and sort of touched him on the head. I watched, fascinated, as Davy patted the slimy side of the beast's tentacle, a small smile on his face. Was this actual happiness? He touched his hand to the tip of one massive tentacle, and then, silently, the kraken slid it's tentacle back down into the water. Me and Palafico exchanged looks.

"Do you know why you'll never be first mate, Palafico?" Davy suddenly said.

"Uh, no sir..." Palafico said, obviously a bit surprised that Davy could tell he was there. I decided I'd just hang around, offering my moral support and... nosing in on the conversation.

"You don't have it. That edge." Davy turned around, staring steadily at Palafico, completely disregarding my existence. I didn't like being ignored, but I decided I'd bear it anyway. Palafico didn't reply, just stood, motionless. "Especially with your acts of... _kindness_ towards the runt," He smirked at me. Okay, my existence wasn't being _completely_ disregarded.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," I said.

"Do," Davy replied to me.

----------

"Stupid Davy Jones. Why does he hate me so much?" I asked Palafico, later that night. He didn't reply, just looked a bit amused. Everyone was well used to me lamenting about how much our captain disliked me. Well, it was true! He _always_ picked on me. I don't really know why, though. He took an instant dislike to me, from the first moment I snapped at him for mistaking me for a bloke. (You have to admit, that _is_ rude.) "He's such a moron."

"I wouldn't say he was unintelligent," Palafico said, and I saw his eyes beginning to drift skywards.

"Palafico. Do _not_ look up there," I warned him, "Do _not_ try and prove the Jimmylegs Moon Theory, because as always, it is completely and utterly wrong." He looked down again, though I could tell he was probably trying not to laugh. Ugh.

----------

I couldn't help it! I was just hanging around on the riggings, minding my own business, the sun was rising, and then the great cabin door opens and out steps Davy Jones – the sun reflecting off of his shining tentacles, his hat tall and proud on his head, barnacles clinging to his crab leg, a pipe clamped tightly in his mouth, his eyes surveying the ship – his kingdom, full of his slaves. As he stepped forwards, I put two fingers in my mouth and gave an almighty wolf whistle.

Immediately, his head jerked upwards, and his eyes narrowed in a glare of pure evil. He spoke softly, and I was far away, but I could tell easily what he was saying – _come here_. Some crewmembers raised their eyebrows at me; but mostly, they just looked amused, wondering if I was going to get another flogging. Shooting one of them a dire, 'uh-oh!' look, I clambered downwards, and landed with a thud right in front of our lovely captain, my arms raised.

"Good morning, sunshine!" I called cheerfully.

"Get to the cabin," He snarled at me, before pushing past me rudely and walking off down towards the back of the ship. I blinked, watching him go, before heading towards his cabin. Hmm, not a flogging today, then? I wondered what it _would_ be. Just outside his door, Palafico was standing, chewing on a splint of wood. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Hello, cowboy," I sniggered.

"...Hi, Bibsy," He said, my comment going over his head with a whooshing sound, "What're you doing here?"

"I paid a compliment to Davy Jones, and now he wants me to wait in his cabin for him. I don't know what he's going to do for me, but I bet it involves the letters R, A, P and E." I said, raising an eyebrow. Palafico looked blank for a moment, and then revolted.

"Just get in there, will you? Don't make things worse," He said, and after a pause, added, "And also, don't give him any ideas."

"That's horrible," I said with a nod.

"So's your face," He smirked. Damn it! I really should stop giving the crewmembers all of these ideas! Oh well... without another word, I pushed open the cabin door and walked on inside. It closed softly behind me. And so I waited for Davy Jones.

I didn't have to wait long. And when he told me my punishment... well, I wasn't a happy bunny.

----------

"This is so undignified, it's not even funny," I said, as Koleniko finished wrapping the rope around my legs, and at my ankles, tied a few knots. "And those knots had better not come out, mister!" He just rolled his eyes.

"You bring this on yerself," He told me, before getting up and nodding towards some crewmembers at the other side of the mast to start pulling. You see – the rope that was tied to my legs went up, and over a sail, and down the other side of the mast. So when they pulled... whee! I lifted off of the ground, upside-down, higher and higher until the ground was quite a long way below me. And then they fastened the rope, leaving my hanging upside-down, swinging like a spider from a thread.

And Davy had told me... two weeks! Bloody hell! What is up with him? I didn't even do anything that bad. I mean, I know I get on his nerves, but this is just taking favouritism to a whole new level. I could see crewmembers below me; most of them were jeering. Perfect. I folded my arms, not liking the feeling of blood rushing to my head, and the whooshing in my ears.

"Get back to work!" I heard Davy call out loudly, and immediately the little crowd that had gathered to watch me swing scattered, vanishing towards their stations. I frowned at him, but Davy just sneered and walked off. Palafico was still by his door, and was watching me, smiling slightly, like _ha ha_. Aargh!

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a pineapple! It flew towards me from below, bouncing off of my knee, and instantly I grabbed it from the air, twisting my head around to see who'd thrown it. Oh, who else, but our favourite first mate? Smirking at him, I threw my arm back and then, taking aim, open fired at him with the pineapple, nailing him on the head. Hah! Take that!

"There goes your food for today, idiot!" Maccus cupped his hands around his mouth to tell me. I glared at him... Damn him!

----------

Swing. Swing. It was windy up there, and quite a few times I was afraid that I'd go flying into the mast, and smash every bone in my body with the impact. I hung, stock still, my arms folded over my shirt to stop it flying up – uh, downwards. Around me, in the riggings and on the sails, men worked, and usually stole looks at me, sniggering. I always gave them a jaunty little wave – if you can't beat 'em, join 'em...

It was quite lonely up here, though. I was missing out on all of the fun. If it had been anyone else up here in my place, I would have been delighted. But no... nobody else was 'disobedient' as Davy called it – in other words, nobody else did loud wolf whistles at the captain. Sometimes I would swing the rope on purpose, doing ballet moves in the air. I was pretty bored. The two weeks _dragged_.

And I was not all that comforted by the thought that the only thing between me and oblivion was several metres of rope. Which Koleniko had tied, in about four and a half seconds flat. If they became undone, it was bye-bye Bibsy, hello Bibsy Paste™. It didn't feel secure at _all_. And also, that rope that was secured down at the decks; I was worried that _someone_ – Maccus, it's you again – would axe it or something, send me falling back to the hard planks and land with a splatter. Though I'd only hear the 'sp' bit before I was dead.

But, finally, after two weeks of having my brain squashed to the top of my skull, being washed down in heavy rain and being very hungry, finally, I felt the rope give a judder. Feeling a bit panicked, I looked towards the rope below me, and saw a bunch of the crew untying the rope, and then I was being let down – slowly but surely! Though _somehow_, I ended up freefalling the last few feet and landing head-first on the deck in a heap.

Yeah, I'm onto you, Maccus.

Still – freedom! Davy cut through the ropes with a single swipe, and then dragged me to my feet by my shoulder, digging into my flesh, which was soaked through, as well as my shirt. In fact, the shirt had gone see-through, so it was just as well I was still wearing my old green top underneath it. He glared at me for a moment, and then laughed unkindly, dropping me back to the deck and stalking off. I blinked, shaking my head, and slowly climbed to my feet, feeling oddly unsteady.

"How was it up there?" Palafico asked me, sounding annoyingly cheerful.

"Quite refreshing, actually," I said, straightening my shirt with as much dignity as I could muster, "I think the fresh air did me good."

"So you'd go up there again?" He asked me innocently.

"Uh... not really. I need another trip up there like I need a hole in the hen," I replied.

"Hole in the _head_," He said, correcting me.

"What?" I gave him an odd look.

"You need a hole in the _head_," He repeated.

"Do I really? What makes you say that?" I asked him.

"No, it's... never mind," He sighed.

----------

Minutes later, I noticed a few crewmembers sniggering together, and gesturing up above their heads while looking at me. I blinked, a terrible truth dawning on me. I put my hand up to my long, frizzing, ginger hair, which was now practically hard with salt and dryness – and realized that it was completely standing up at a crazy angle. My mouth dropped open – oh my god!

"Why didn't you tell me I was windswept?!" I hissed to Palafico.

"I think it looks fetching on you," He said innocently, though I could tell he was choking back a laugh. I thumped him on the shoulder, and went off below decks to try and get my hair back under control.

* * *

**NB:** Bibsy's up to tricks again, just like old times; the punishment was imaginative of Davy, eh? Though he should know by now that nothing's going to stop Bibsy... Thank you for reviews! I'll even draw a smiley face, which I usually loathe to do! 

:D


	8. Chap 8: Friends for Death

**8) Friends for Death **

I was below decks, to see Wyvern. Now, going on a trip to see Wyvern was like going on a trip to see an elderly and confused relative who you didn't really know that well, and thought was a bit smelly – you didn't generally _like_ it, but you felt bad if you didn't do it, and were just rather obliged to do it. I visited Wyvern as much as I could spare; I lead such a busy life, being annoyed by Maccus, being annoyed by Palafico, being annoyed by Davy, and being bossed around by two of the above, but I managed to fit the visits to Wyvern in.

He was a little bit confused, though.

"And I told her... I said to her, I said... All about Davy, and his ways, the chest and all... and she listened, she stayed for a whole year, you know... she listened, she said..." He was rambling on.

"I know, Wyvern, that was _me_," I told him, as gently as I could manage, "I was trapped down here."

"Mad... completely mad..." He chuckled, "She was so mad, going on about Square Bob and Davy's green eyes which are really blue... saying everything out loud... I bet she didn't even realize... oh, the things she told me, they could cause scandal,"

"Hmm... what _did_ I say?" I wondered aloud. I was a bit worried about that, actually; all of my deepest secrets trusted in... well, this.

"Oh, many things, she said, she said," Wyvern rolled his head to the side, his eyes still intent on me, seemingly contented with simply blabbering meaningless rubbish at me, "About Bethany, how she never saw her, how she never really said, she said, many things, she said..." I decided to stick to nodding from now on, because following something said by Wyvern was like piecing together a 3D puzzle. Abso-bloody-lutely impossible.

I'm not thick.

"Ward," Came a grating voice behind me. Shooting a look full of prayer at Wyvern, I turned around to face my dear Macky H, "Yer not meant ter be down 'ere," He growled at me, looking down at me, his bright yellow eyes flickering to Wyvern for a mere moment, before completely ignoring his presence and turning back to me. Wyvern was still mumbling a little to himself.

"Why not?" I asked him, in a pleasant manner, smiling at him. He just carried on scowling.

"Because you're on _sails_," He said, as if explaining something to a mentally handicapped person, "But you're not – so get back up there! People don't come to the _Dutchman_ for holidays," He jeered.

"Alright, alright, don't burst a blood vessel," I muttered, turning to begin walking up to top deck, "I _know_ what I was meant to be doing, I just thought this could be more productive. Help the aged, and all of that."

"You remind me o' someone," he suddenly said, "I wish I knew who..." This was the most mad thing I've heard all day. I gave him a look that said as much, and then scarpered.

----------

"Oh _nnooo_!" I wailed, raising my arms in defeat. I looked around myself, covered in ropes tied up in all sorts of confusing knots all around me. What the hell?! How had I gotten myself into this mess?! That's probably what daydreaming on the job did for you.

"Nice sailors knot," Clanker sniggered.

"Not funny, Clanker!" I hissed, "Davy's going to lay an egg when he finds out about this! What shall I do?!" I looked around, "Is this even attached to the sails?"

"I don't think so..." Hadras said. Great. Juuust great.

"Ohh... forget _egg_, he's going to be laying footballs all over the deck!" I fretted, struggling out of the tangled mess, throwing it to the wooden floor with a wet slap, "Can any of you help me?"

"Busy," Clanker said.

"Sailing," Hadras said.

"Got to go," Old Haddy said.

"Swabbing," Angler said.

"Off duty," Jelly said.

"Lazy," Urchin said. I glared at him, and he just gave a shrug. "At least I'm honest!"

"Looks like the little lamb has messed up, _again_..." Came a familiar voice from behind me. I cringed, a shadow falling across me, and I looked up, innocently as possible.

"Hi, Davy," I said, nonchalantly. He gestured for me to stand with a jerk of his head, and I got to my feet, wondering what on earth he was going to do to me now. He looked down at the tangled mass of ropes on the sodden decking, entwined around barrels, crates, and even various crewmembers. I'd just gone... wandering in the middle of my duties, and somehow caused a big mess.

"No punishment is enough for you, is it?" He asked me, his eyes boring into mine. I looked over, just behind him, where Hadras was flapping his arms, miming a chicken laying an egg. A few crewmembers laughed, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop a giggle from escaping. Davy followed my gaze and spun around, but all he saw was Hadras standing solemnly as a few crewmembers covered up their laughter. He turned back to me, asking, "Why do you do it?"

"Any chance to look into your beautiful eyes, sir," I said, inoffensively. His reply was a backhand around the face with his crab claw.

Charming.

----------

Greenbeard made his usual snarling, growling sound, which was all that he could say. He'd been on the ship so long, his vocal chords appeared to have shorted out or something; though I knew that he could talk... he just chose not to a lot of the time. And when he did, it came out in a low rumble, a deep and guttural voice, like the monster from your childhood nightmares. I nodded at him, thoughtfully.

"Yes, Greenbeard, interesting, but I think that scientific evidence disproved that particular theory long ago," I said to him. He rolled his squinty, yellow eyes, and gave a low growl, "I know, but _why_ are you so in love with Oglivey?" I asked him.

Tired, and probably a little frustrated about me bothering him, he snapped his large jaws together in front of my face, and then turned away from me, holding the wheel of the _Dutchman_ steady. It was nighttime, and he was the only one generally left. He'd become so plant like, he didn't even need to eat or sleep any more. How cool is that?

"Stop annoying Greenbeard, what did he ever do to you?" Palafico asked me. I hadn't realized he was still awake too. I turned towards him, smiling.

"Oh, but I only annoy Greenbeard when _you're_ not around, Palafico," I said sweetly. I felt we had become somewhat distanced, me and Palafico; we used to be practically inseparable, but now, well... our friendship was vague to say the least. It was because he had to spend so much time with the bloody captain, I bet. Grr.

----------

"Palafico,"

"Yes, captain?"

I opened my eyes, blinking. I'd fallen asleep... how? I don't know. Where was I? It was pitch black all around me, which wasn't normal. I looked upwards... oh. I must be down the back of a crate or something. All I could remember was sitting on the crate, watching the sea, thinking about how I'd never get to sleep, and then... well, I must have dozed off and ended up squinched down in between the crate and the wall, snug as a bug. (are bugs snug? I don't know. That saying is dumb.)

"You know, I hear you," What was Davy on about? "Just stop talking to her, I said. With that _runt_." Oh, I guess that must be me, then.

"I... it was only one sentence, sir," Palafico sounded reproachful. Yes, you tell him, Pally!

"I told you it was your last chance," Davy's voice was dangerous, "And this is a warning. _Stop_." There was a crunch. I thought about Davy's claw closing around Palafico, bits of coral crumbling, Palafico standing dully. My heart beat faster, mostly in anger... I wanted to jump out at Davy then, rip him to shreds. Was I perhaps a bit protective over my friend? The thing is, Palafico never did anything wrong. He went out of his way to please everyone... I couldn't stand the thought of him being punished for it. "I told you, if it would save more trouble, I'd just cut one of you down..."

I was _used_ to being yelled at by Davy. And now he was giving Palafico a 'warning' for saying one sentence to me? Argh, I should've guessed. Davy didn't much like the thought of friendship on board – he wants everyone to be miserable and joyless like himself. Which sometimes makes it very hard to be empathetic with him. Breaking friendships apart?

How low could you _go_?!

"Alright..." Palafico said, somewhat reluctantly. I heard another series of crunches.

"Pardon?"

"Yes... sir..."

"Good man." And the next thing I knew, I heard the thumping of Davy walking off, and I wanted to go out there and help Palafico to his feet, and then go running to Davy and kick his head in. But there wasn't anything I could do... Davy was the king of this castle, and his word was finality.

You know, come to think of it, maybe it wasn't _friendship_ Davy was worried about...

* * *

**NB:** Tsk, tsk. Davy being the typical control freak. And the crew being typical men.


	9. Chap 9: Liberal Ears

**9) Liberal Ears **

But one thing Davy couldn't control was the sword-fighting lessons! Which would have been a win on my part, apart from the fact that they weren't the same anymore. The banter that used to take place had subsided into nothing – just a sort of uncomfortable silence that I really couldn't bear. Palafico would occasionally comment on something, or tell me when I was doing something wrong, but it wasn't the same. I just couldn't stand the silence any more... The organ music cut out. I smiled to myself; Davy must have dropped off to sleepy-bies again.

"Palafico," I suddenly said, "Stop being an ass."

"What?" He replied. He sounded a little offended. I guess he wasn't really doing anything other then teaching me to swordfight... but that was the point. There was no conversation, no _fun_ any more. I used to look forwards to the swordfights; but since I'd heard the conversation, I couldn't enjoy them any more.

"I heard what Davy said," I told him, "How you can't talk to me, or whatever!" Well, better then just keeping it all a secret and splitting apart, right? I've never been one to keep my mouth closed. "You've been acting like an ass ever since. I hate Davy."

"It's..." Palafico just shrugged sort of helplessly, "He'd probably kill you otherwise."

"What a loser," I said. Palafico smiled. And the sense of camaraderie came back.

----------

"Why did the chicken cross the park? To get to the other _slide_," I declared. The crewmembers' confused expressions were enough to make me chuckle. Ahh, the greatness of jokes. And the great thing is, I was guaranteed a laugh because they were jokes from modern times, which they'd never heard of! Or so I thought. "Alright, here's one... my dog has no nose..."

"Ohh, that's an _old_ one," Clanker rolled his eyes. Hmm!

----------

"...but I don't know how..." Came a mumbling voice from the darkness. I rolled over in my bunk, frowning. It was Palafico. But who on earth was he talking to?

"What?" I asked him, popping my head over my bunk towards his. But he didn't react; and his eyes were closed. Oh, score! He was sleep talking again! I laid myself back, deciding to listen in on more of his dreams. They were usually rather inane. Not that I could understand most of his half-asleep mutterings.

"...I wish... but... what if..." What was he on about now? "...but I don't even like cod..." What a weirdo! "...Jones... he did the... and... dead..." Huh! See what I mean? Even in their sleep, they can't stop talking about death! Honestly! At this point, I slid out of my bunk, and padded over to his. I prodded his arm gently.

"Palafico?" I whispered. I didn't want to wake the other crewmembers.

"Mmm... what, Bibsy?" He mumbled. His eyes still closed. Yes! I had him in his half-asleep state! This meant that I could ask him anything – _anything_ – and he would tell the absolute truth, with no idea what he was saying. And in the morning, he wouldn't remember it at all! It's a mean trick, yes, but amusing all the same.

"Do you really think my ears are big?" I asked him.

"Yeah... liberal... generous ears..." I pouted as he spoke. So he hadn't just been making fun of me?! Argh, it wasn't my fault that my ears stuck out a little bit.

"Ever been in _love_?" I asked him, feeling like being mean because of the whole ear fiasco.

"'Course..." He murmured, "'Course I have..."

"Aww, how sweet," I said, flatly, and a little more loudly then I should have. He started stirring a little.

"Hmm...?" I began making shushing noises, until he was down again. I did not want him finding out about our little midnight conversations. They were far too fun! Though I felt a little insulted about the ears, and at the same time, I felt rather irritated with him. I wasn't sure why though. Insults were traded daily on the _Dutchman_...

"Sleep tight, my little angel," I whispered mockingly.

"Night, Bibsy," He muttered.

----------

"You're so stupid!" I said in mock-anger to Clanker.

"You're even more stupider," He said, copying my childish tone.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh yeah?!"

"Yeah!"

"Oh yeah?!"

"Yeah!" There was a pause.

"...Oh y-?!"

"For gods sake, cut it out!" Jimmylegs yelled at us, cutting me off. Me and Clanker turned to each other, and I raised an eyebrow. Jimmy gave an exasperated sigh, and turned, stalking off across the deck. I held back a laugh.

"That was rude, wasn't it?" I said to Clanker, and then put on my whining four-year-old I-want-candy voice again, "Like _you_."

"Oh yeah?"

* * *

**NB:** Yes. First segment was friendship fluff. Second segment was a random bit about jokes. Third segment was just a weird idea I had. And the last segment... was... just odd. Friendship blooms in the strangest places; then again, so does enmity. Jimmylegs has never really liked Bibsy. Tralala.


	10. Chap 10: Talented Fishies

**10) Talented Fishies**

We were off duty, now. On the _Dutchman_, things go in a cycle; half of the crew work, half of the crew rest, and vice versa. My half of the crew was bored. Of course, I had a brilliant idea. I looked around at them all, sitting around, chatting a bit, not really up to anything.

"I know what to do," I said with a slow smile, "Let's have a talent show..."

----------

They seemed to warm up to the idea surprisingly fast; I guess they'd all developed their own talents and suchlike during their time here, which came with their fishy bodies. And everyone likes to show off something – _anything_ about themselves that was special and different. And if the dear crew of the _Dutchman_ were anything, it was... 'special' and _different_.

So, crates were pushed around, arrangements were made. There was a bunch of table and chair crates and barrels, arranged to face a sort of stage... which was made up of another bunch of crates. Also, being seamen, an ungodly amount of rum found itself accidentally wandering around on the tabletops. And, honestly, you'll be able to tell – they just got rowdier and rowdier. Heh. I wont go into detail of _all_ of the performances, but I will showcase to you some of the more... extraordinary ones.

----------

The Twins did a rather unique performance, in which they read each other's minds; they'd roll a dice and let one of them see it and the other one not, and then the second one would, after a few seconds, tell you what was on the dice. It was pretty good.

Koleniko's special act was... uh, odd. "Don't even ask how I foun' out I coul' do this," He said to us with a shrug, before putting a hand over his nose, taking a deep breath, and then he closed his eyes and strained, his breath unable to escape. Immediately, half of his face started ballooning, which made the crew roar with laughter and begin causing havoc, downing rum and catcalling. One of his eyes bulged, and his cheek was stretched to nearly three times it's normal size. He looked pretty freaky. Then he took his hand off of his nose, though his face stayed in it's swollen state, and then did a running jump off of the stage, shouting something along the lines of 'bleargh!' at a bunch of men; upturning a table, and causing a minor scuffle between him and Broondjongen. Playfighting? Huh, boys will be boys...

When Hadras was pushed onto the makeshift stage, there was not a sober man, or fish, in the house. On the stage, he turned towards a couple of crates, and then leaning back, whacked his head against it as hard as we could. Before we could all wonder what sort of a talent this was, his head suddenly came off – flying into the audience. Oops, bad idea. Men were picking it up and throwing it to each other, while Hadras' body staggered about on the stage.

Jimmylegs was also called up to the stage... he jeered at the crowd, thrashing his cat o' nine tails through the air, "You all knows what _my_ talent is," he said with a sneer. There were shouts of agreement, though some of the men near the front sounded a little apprehensive. Jimmy looked around from the stage, and smirked, "I'm goin' ta need a volunteer..."

Absolute silence fell.

"You, get up 'ere," He said, pointing at Angler, who swore loudly. The sound of jeering and mockery once again filled the air, and I wanted to intervene, wanting this to be just harmless fun, but there was no point in resisting once Jimmy had his mind set on something. Angler was stood on the stage, where he eyed Jimmy distrustingly. Jimmy raised the whip in the air...

And then spun towards the audience, bringing the whip smashing down towards one of the front tables. Barrels that were being used as chairs rolled and bounced away across the deck, as the men on that table – the ones who had been jeering at Angler most – leapt backwards, alarmed, with general shouts of fear. When Jimmy brought the whip back towards him, entwined in it's tails was a bottle of rum; he stuffed the end of it into Angler's mouth, who downed it, and then Jimmy laughed heartily and gave him a colossal pat on the back which made him spit the bottle out of his mouth, sending it rolling away across the floor. One of Jimmy's 'friendly' pats on the back are strong enough to kill a lesser man. The crowed roared with laughter once more, and I smiled, glad that the violence hadn't come up.

Maccus walked in, looking down at us. Obviously thinking, _this isn't meant to be happening_, but he had no basis to punish us on, as this wasn't _exactly_ against the rules. It was our break, and we'd do what we liked with it, thank you very much! I'd noticed him sort of eyeing the stage, trying to pretend he wasn't watching the show. I threw a rum-bottle at him, and he caught it deftly, looking around to me. I gave him a thumbs up. He scowled at me.

But he did drink the rum.

"Hey, Palafico, why don't you have a go?!" I cried out to him suddenly. And I have to admit, I was a bit... tipsy, too. And, uh, by that – I mean I can't really remember too much of what was happening at this point. Hey! If you can't beat 'em, join 'em...

There was some mild protesting on his part, but that's what all of the men did; and you could tell that they were all positively glowing at the prospective of showing off some of their tricks. As far as I can remember, Palafico did some neato tricks with his swords. Like, stuff that wouldn't bee too useful in a real fight, but was impressive nonetheless. Being ambidextrous does have upsides!

"I thought you were pissed off of your head?!" I said as he sat down again.

"I am," He said with a shrug, "Or else I never would've been able to do that. 'S weird like that." Hmm, nice reasoning there, Palafico.

After a while, attention suddenly came to Maccus, after Jimmylegs made some sneering comment about being 'too shy'. Maccus? _Shy_? Yeah right, and Maccus proved as much by smacking Jimmy's head into the table he was sitting at. This started a minor brawl, though the fighting subsided after a few minutes.

"I knows wha' Maccus can do," Koleniko slurred, "'E can sing. I 'eard 'im."

"Go to hell, Niko," Maccus snarled at him, but our minds were set on it now. The men started up their shouting again, thumping on the tables and suchlike.

"Go on, Maccus!"

"'Ave a go!"

"Give it a try!" At the calls, Maccus frowned severely, and shot us all look as if he were above this childishness. I pouted at him.

"If you don't sing, I will!" I called out. Some men groaned, but most of them just laughed. Maccus shot me an evil look, but stayed where he was, folding his arms – an act of finality. He was first mate, so the men decided they wouldn't goad him any more... in any other case they probably would have picked him up bodily and thrown him on stage.

"Go on then, Bibsy," Palafico said with a smirk. Damn, he wanted revenge for making him go on stage too, right?

"Well, I'm the judge, y'know..." I said, uncertainly, "I'm not meant to perform. I choose who's the winner. So who's goin' to go next?" It was fruitless. The men were all sniggering at each other, probably wondering what talent I possessed, and what on earth I would do on stage.

I did have one talent... but I couldn't do it on a stage. See, my transformation had changed me into... well, a half-dolphin thing, with gills so I could sort of breathe underwater, my feet had grown to a ridiculous and unreasonable size, bigger then some of the _men_ on board, and heaven forbid, that's next to impossible. (Ugh. I don't even want to _think _about what they say about men with big feet...)

My legs can do this thing... even I'm not sure how it works... the joints that attach my legs to my pelvis (biology was never my best subject) sort of snap into this position, and my legs are sort of sealed together by this flap of skin, and I can use it as a _sort of_ tail, and it makes me one of the quickest swimmers on board. Not that I ever _need_ to swim. Sigh. Still, if you have a talent, it's better then nothing. But it was nighttime, and the waters were black and dangerous. No thanks.

"Alright, I'm going," I said, and the men all started laughing again, still tipping back the rum, and I thought, _I can use their drunkenness to my advantage. I wonder what stupid things they'll do...?_ I clambered up onto the stage, taking a bow. There only songs I could think of that would work at the moment were mostly shouted so there was not too much need for tune, which was a good thing.

Major memory lapses at this point. To be totally honest with you, 'tipsy' went on to mean 'completely off my head' at this point, and whenever I bring up the subject, the crew just start smirking about how 'Bibsy can't handle her drink'. Ughhh.

But I know it was good. I showed them some crazy dance-moves, breakdancing style, as well as showing them the art of headbanging; which wasn't _too_ good for Hadras at the moment, but hey, it worked, sort of. And the stage was gone and the crates were scattered, and then there was just laughter and shoving and shouting and singing. More men seemed to arrive out of nowhere; I realised that the shift of the other half was over, but didn't care. I just wanted to stay at this party forever.

And suddenly, I was being grabbed roughly by the arm and there was silence and I didn't know what was happening, because I was too funked up on rum which I shouldn't have drank because I was little and not used to it and hadn't eaten in a while. I looked up at Davy, who was frowning, probably because he doesn't like the sound of fun and laughter. I was too confused though, too happy. The other men were well used to the effects of alcohol, and shut up immediately, but it made me weird.

Uh, weirder.

"I should've guessed you were the little ringleader," He said quietly, dangerously. He looked up, at Maccus, who was sort of edging away, as if trying to disassociate himself from us all. I wasn't sure if he'd joined in with the... general madness that had just occurred. I guess not.

"Ringleader?" I asked, blearily. I heard a distinct laugh somewhere in the crowd, as I slurred insanely.

"Duty change was one minute ago," Davy said, his voice dangerous, "If you're not all in your places in exactly fifteen seconds, there will be a lot of work for the bo'sun's cat." Men immediately began vanishing; and the men who had just come off of their shifts were laughing at the insanity that had just taken place, grabbing bottles of rum that were left over and downing them before heading off.

Davy dropped me onto the decking, and shot me a look full of, 'you are so dead when you're sober, missy,' with a hint of, 'I can't believe how stupid you are'. Yeah, I'm good at reading these looks, aren't I? Anyway, I staggered to my feet, and smiled happily. Clanker, who'd just come off duty, gave me a prod in between the shoulder blades, which made me nearly fall over.

"Who let her drink rum?" He asked, in pretend disbelief.

"I'm not drunk... I'm... full of rum..." I said, glancing around, wondering where my half of the crew had vanished to. Everything seemed to be wavery.

* * *

**NB:** Yay! Party! ...there isn't much else to say. I'm not so good at writing from the point of view of somebody drunk, am I? Oh well... another thing for the list of things I need to improve on... starting with fight scenes... haha, I'm always saying about how crap I am at them.

Trust me. They will explode your brain.


	11. Chap 11: Plastered

**11) Plastered**

I woke up, and it was dark. I was in my bunk. And I'd realized something awful.

The crew snored terribly after a night on the bottle.

----------

I opened my eyes, keeping then squinty, the dim light of the room attacking my eyelids ferociously. Uh oh... hangover time. I had had exactly _one_ of these before in my life, and they sucked, big time. I decided I would much rather lie here for the time being, and I hastily closed my eyes again. I could hear movement in the room; each little shuffle like a bomb going off. My poor, frazzled nerves...

"Rise and shine!" Someone shouted into my ear, making me jump. I groaned as the sound resounded around my skull. I felt like my head was only just balanced on my neck... if that made any sense. "Jesus, were you smashed yesterday!"

"Who are you an' why are you killin' my ears?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed. There was the sound of laughter.

"Shouldn't drink more'n you can handle, wean..." A voice snickered somewhere in the room.

"I'm going to sleep," I said, and rolled over again. But that is not how things work on the _Dutchman_. I jerked upwards – which was rather bad for my head – as a bucket of cold water was emptied over me, like an electric shock. It was soothing on my forehead, but otherwise, it was terrible. I'd never been so rudely awakened in my entire life. "Oh! There was no need for that!" I said, shivering already.

"Get to get back ter work, Bibsy," Someone said. I gave them the two-finger salute, but stepped out of my bed anyway, still headachey all over. Well, a headache is obviously in the head. But... oh, shut up.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," I said with a sigh, before walking into the wall.

Not a good day for me.

----------

"Davy's been... limp, lately," Palafico said to me, one day. It was pretty random. I looked around furtively, almost certain that Davy would come popping up out of nowhere, demanding for lashes of the whips. "He's asleep," Palafico said, waving a hand, and reading my mind in that scary way he has.

"Hmm. Maybe he should try aerobics," I said.

"Aerobics?" Palafico asked, but right then I was dead to world, too lost in my terrifically hideous images of Davy in a bright pink leotard, yellow legwarmers and a headband, pumping it to a video of some god-awful American woman with her breasts squished up in a tiny spandex top with terrible club music playing... well, you get the idea.

"Freaky," I said to myself. Palafico decided there and then that there was no point in trying to make any sense out of anything I said that day. I shook the images out of my head, and smiled to Palafico.

"I mean... he's not been acting... himself," Palafico frowned. "Not as... harsh?" He was putting it kindly, there.

"Hmm! I wonder what's got Davy down?" I said, pretending to stoke an imaginary beard. Palafico didn't know. I'd sort of noticed it too, but I hadn't really thought about it until Palafico mentioned it. But he was right, Davy had been acting not himself just recently... "Maybe it's his time of the month," I suggested.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Time of the..." Palafico looked out to sea for a minute, and then said, "I think you might be right. Time of the _decade_, not time of the month, though. Once every ten years he can walk the land; and I think that it's coming soon."

"So he's going to port?!" I asked him, leaping to my feet. This was phenomenal! I thought I'd have to wait years before getting off of this ship! Now I could make my escape. Palafico just looked at me though, sort of pityingly.

"The _Dutchman_ never ports," He said. Huh.

----------

Escape. Escape, escape, escape. It was always at the back of my mind; schemes to get off of the ship popped up all over the place; in dreams, in everyday life, just at random moments. But since my first hair-brained attempt at escape – here's a plug for my other story – I'd been a little nervous to try. They did _not_ make my popular with Davy; which meant Maccus took a dislike to me too, which meant Jimmylegs followed in their lead.

I'd stare out to sea for long, long periods of time; just wishing for the day I'd get off the _Dutchman_, and go home; back to Weymouth, back to the cave, and hopefully back to my time. Well, I used to. When I was a little newer. The thing is, I sort of got used to things on the ship. It became a bit like home; in a twisted, horrible way, that is. Of course.

The crew of the _Flying Dutchman_ were the fear of all other vessels in the waters of the world; grown men cowered at the thought of them – well, _us_, I guess I should say. The thing is, though terrifying to other ships, there was no... _point_ in hating each other. We were all stuck with each other for a century, so we might as well make the best of it, right? It's a common misconception that we spend our entire lives hoping to beat the living daylights out of each other.

Well, of course, Davy doesn't want our stay here to be like a free cruise. Maccus is just a generally dislikeable person because his views reflect the captains – they have to, or he wouldn't be first mate – and simply because Davy likes him. Not in the sense that they spend large amounts of time giggling with each other or whispering secrets to each other at sleepovers or anything, Davy just treats Maccus a tad nicer then the rest of us.

There _was_ a time when Maccus used to complain about the captain with the rest of us, sit around in between shifts moaning about his aching back and indulging in the gossip and so on that spread around the ship like wildfire. But... well, that finished the second he challenged Wyvern. It turned him from one of Us into one of Them.

_Us_ are me, Clanker, Hadras, Urchin, Jelly, amongst others; the ones that do all the work, basically. The unranked crewmembers. The random faces in the background that nobody really thinks about; we do all the work, we get all the lashings, yet we don't get a shred of respect! Hrrm. Palafico was, sadly, one of _Them_. And _They_ are Maccus, Jimmylegs, Palafico, Koleniko, and of course, Davy; they didn't always act like it, but the line was always there. Them and Us. This little divide in the crew – barely there, but there all the same. Enemies; _Us_ didn't tell tales to _Them_, and _They_ didn't show mercy on _Us_ if we're caught. We were rivals.

Apart from me and Palafico, of course. But we're special like that.

Anyway, it's the whole Us/Them situation that made the whole Us/Them situation even worse... ugh, it's hard to explain. All of _them_ were one of _us_ at some point. Which made it seem more like betrayal when they went over to _them_. That's why you can't trust people; you tell someone some easy way to slack off of work, or some secret spot that the mates don't know of – and when they go over to _their_ side, they make sure it doesn't work any more.

----------

"Bibsy."

"What?"

"What're you doing?"

"Alright... this is going to sound weird to you, of course..." I said, turning to Palafico. He was giving me a very slightly odd look. "I'm making a den."

"A den?"

"A den."

"...a den."

"What are you, deaf or dumb?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at Palafico. He just shrugged, and looked over my work so far. Scraps of sail. Bits of crates. And, of course, a snug-as-a-bug little hole at the back where I could simply curl up and dream away the days... because this was where nobody came; right below decks, right at the back, hidden from view. I guess Davy would be able to track me down if he could be bothered, but why would he?

"And what are you putting on your den now?" He asked me.

"Isn't it obvious?" I said to him, rolling my eyes, "I'm installing a TV!"

"Right. Okay." Palafico said, though he obviously had no idea what a TV was – how could he? – I could tell he wasn't too willing to admit it. He was too used to having no idea what I was on about. But I had to have _some_ stuff that I could talk about and sound knowledgeable with! Palafico's like a walking bloody dictionary, people!

"You don't know what a TV is, do you?" I asked him with a fake sneer, "How primitive!"

"Yes, I do," He said, somewhat quickly.

"What is it then?" I asked him.

"It's... a box..." He looked over at what I was trying to shove into my den. It was, indeed, a box. With a black front. Just to remind me of home, right? I'm not weird.

"And what does it do?" I said, pouting at him.

"...nothing..." Palafico was looking at the box now, though, and his statement came out almost a question. Probably wondering what it _did_ do, and wondering if it was fun.

"See? That's why you shouldn't blag knowing more then you do," I said, wagging a finger at him.

"What, like telling Maccus that I'm elite with a sword, and then going into battle waving it around and squealing like a three-year-old on opium?" He asked, innocently.

"I _didn't_ sound like a three-year-old on opium! Jeesh!" I said, waving my arms helplessly. For some crazy reason, 'three-year-old on opium' has come to mean 'Bibsy' on board this ship. Why? Why why why? It's such an unflattering metaphor!

"Well, if you're trying to get your... TV into your den, you might as well do it right," He said, and then he turned it on it's side and slid it into the den easily, where I'd been struggling for twenty minutes. I tried to look put out, but a grin came to my face.

"That's one of the things I like about you," I laughed, "You're so sensible!"

It seems that 'opposites attract' really does work in this case.

* * *

**NB:** Alriiight. I sort of skip over the punishments Davy dishes out for Bibsy, because they are usually things you don't want to hear about, like scrubbing out the bilges, or lashes from the cat. Which I have described in terrible detail before. Next chapter is quite a dark one - other women on board the _Dutchman_? Well, it must have happened before, right?

And also, the introduction of Them and Us; something that becomes incorporated in a lot of power struggles...


	12. Chap 12: Natalia Ophelia Burton

**12) Natalia Ophelia Burton**

Apparently, I wasn't the first time a female had drowned at sea. Well, I guess there was no need to be surprised by this; but I was. When I first found out there had been other women, I asked them what had happened to them. The crewmembers mostly just shrugged; none of them wanted to say much about it. They said that most of them opted to die, rather then join.

On one occasion, I managed to find out that they didn't so much as choose to die, as simply stare at them in absolute horrified silence until they were cut down. I asked Palafico about this, but he just shrugged and told me he'd been on board the same amount of time as me, how was he meant to know? I was staggered at the thought of Palafico not knowing everything. Palafico had known the answer to almost every question I'd ever asked since I got here. He was my source of information!

These thoughts were going through my head as they dragged some new hostages on board after one particular rampage; because this time, it included a woman.

----------

"Bad luck, bad luck on a voyage, women," One of the men from the crew brought on board was muttering to himself, rubbing his hands together, sweat mingling with the rain. I turned to look at her. She had apparently been a passenger on this ship; she looked well-off, in any case. She was wearing a very complicated-looking green gown, which was now soaked through; she was quite little, and had a figure like a wasp; a tiny waist that came out into big, curvy hips – perfect fashion of these times.

Her hair was a dark brown, drawn up in a complex bun, with some curls left around her face; now limp and stuck against her pale skin. Her eyes were slightly slanted and they were a dark blue, and all that registered in them was a stark and furious panic.

Davy was doing his usual rounds – it was always _do you fear death_ this, and _dark abyss_ that. Couldn't he come up with anything better? Maybe throw in the odd jokes from time to time? Oh, I don't know. I guess Davy was never cut out to be a comedian. Anyway, I pushed my way to the front of the crowd as he got to her; and found myself feeling oddly protective over the slight girl in front of me. I have no idea why. Maybe I just wanted female company? Whatever it was, it caused conflict.

"No answer?" Davy was saying to her, a sneer coming onto his face. The girl looked at him through wide, blue eyes, her eyelashes stuck together with rain and seawater. Crewmembers watched on seriously; well, not all of them. Jimmylegs and the like were jeering, but most just stood there.

"Davy, don't!" I said, walking forwards. His very presence was frightening her even more; even I could tell that. I looked at her – Davy was looking at me in a not-very-amused manner, but seemed interested in what I was going to do next, so let me continue – though interrupting him would probably have very steep punishment in the future. Urgh. I turned towards her; she was looking at me now, her wide eyes frightened, like a cornered rabbit.

A murmur went through the crowd. They were all craning their necks to see me now, like they were waiting for me to perform some sort of magic trick. I don't know; it was probably the first time in god-knows-how-long since they'd seen two women interacting with each other. In fact, I wondered if a few of them would have wept with joy at hearing a conversation about shoe shopping. But I digress.

"Hello," I said softly, like I was talking to a deer I didn't want to frighten away. Her eyes were moving all about now, but finally they fixed on me. She shook her head at me as I took a step towards her; as if telling me to move away. I was confused. I was a girl like her; I'd been in the same situation once – surely she'd feel safer confiding in me? I looked to Davy, who had been looking completely emotionless until now; but a look of both disgruntlement and 'don't you see?' had stolen over his face. It was hard to understand.

"One word, and she's bound to the crew for a century," He said to me. Well, he was looking at the girl – but I could tell he was talking to me. All she had to say to him was 'yes', and it was as good as a contract. And I took it as a personal challenge to get her to say it; save her life.

I didn't realize that for a girl like her, life on board was worse then death.

"What's your name?" I asked her, ignoring Davy. Maybe I could get her talking about herself; even her name would be progress. She kept on looking at me for a moment in the same way as before, and I thought she wasn't going to respond, but eventually she spoke.

"N-natalia Ophelia Burton," She said. I heard a few sniggers from the assembled crowd, and the girl looked around the half-darkness, still shivering, her arms clamped tightly around herself. I shot a glare into the crowd of men, and then looked back to the girl, trying to look understanding. I reached forwards, and she sort of flinched prettily away from me, like a queen being reached up to by a beggar.

"Don't... don't touch me," She said to me, a slight bravery creeping into her voice. And I felt like a bottomless pit had suddenly opened up inside me, and my stomach had dropped away down it. _Don't touch me_. Like I was some sort of... thing. A monster. I looked down at scaly hands.

I was.

With a blink, I looked up to Davy, and it dawned on me that he knew that that was basically how she'd react. He'd known that she was going to flinch away from me, regard me like a piece of slime. He wanted me to feel it – _really _feel it; being rejected by someone who I thought was the same as me. She wasn't. She was so very different – and she saw me as a beast. She didn't mean to get to me like she did; as far as she was concerned, I was a monster with no feelings.

But it did get to me. _Don't touch me_. I couldn't help but resent her a little for those words – and resent Davy a lot for leading me into it. This was my punishment for interrupting him; by letting me go on and discover that I wasn't normal any more. Would never be accepted into society. It was a horrible thing to do – but at the same time, it was... an experience. I'd discovered something.

All of this went through my head; and I sighed to myself. There was no point in going on. She was still looking at me with those eyes now – and they weren't just a fear of her situation, a fear of dying, a fear of living here; it feared me too. I was one of the monsters, and somehow, I'd never realized. Mirrors were rather few and far between on the _Flying Dutchman_. Who wants to see what exactly was the latest deformity they'd developed?

"Okay," I said, and I just walked away from her. The crowed parted this time; I didn't need to shove my way through. I felt like I was away from everyone; like there was a box around me, and I could see what was happening outside, but it was all far away from me – I was deep in thought. I saw Davy though. I saw triumph on his face; like I'd expected. But he seemed... weary. Like he was saying, _it's horrible, isn't it?_

I turned back towards the girl, once I was at the back of the crowd; through spines and fins, I watched her. Koleniko had a hand on her shoulder, though she barely needed restraining; and in his other hand, a small and rusting axe glinted dangerously. He was looking to the captain, questioningly, awaiting orders – should he kill her? I looked to Davy, who was standing there.

There was the slightest of pauses; and I wondered if Davy was going to do a compassionate act of kindness of the purest, purest kind – if he was going to let her go. The scared, shy, wreck of a girl, lost and alone and a long way from home. Maybe...?

The barest of nods. The dull thud of an axe embedding itself into a skull. A slight whimper, and then the crash of a body hitting restless waves.

No. Of course not. Compassion from Davy Jones? You're more likely to find gold in your bellybutton.

----------

I couldn't help thinking of her, though. I think the crew noticed my silence; but they didn't understand. How could they? It was... strange. I'd always been a people person, I like to think. I enjoy making friends, and I've always felt I was good – or at least, not bad – at relating to people. But it looks like I was wrong; or at least, in this case.

"Don' dwell on it," Wheelback said to me, out of the blue. I turned to him, trying to look nonchalant and slightly puzzled.

"Dwell on what?" I asked him.

"That's the spirit," He said with a lopsided grin, before continuing, "She's a lady, righ'? She dun' know anyfing 'bout the sea. This place would be too much work for 'er little han's anyway – she's better off." I just stared at him. I'd always liked Wheelback, and the other crewmembers, but I'd always thought they were... well, you know, a bit retar- _thick_. But it seems that they're much more perceptive then I'd imagined.

"Better off dead?" I asked him.

"You ain't like the uvver wom'n of this time. It's different; wi' most ladies... they'd prob'ly rather be dead then like us." Wheelback said, his compass eye flicking around my face, in an almost searching way. Though I'd had to get used to them, I guess they _were_ scary. Well... _we_ were scary.

I'd been out of my mind with terror when I'd first seen them – but given time, I'd gotten used to them. So why couldn't others?

----------

Natalia Ophelia Burton wasn't the only case of someone odd coming on board the _Dutchman_. After one particular raid, I spied Jimmylegs coming on board, holding a baby in one hand – which was not very safe. The baby was screaming at the top of it's lungs, and Jimmy was holding it like some would hold a dead rat.

"Where... where'd that baby come from?" I asked him.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Jimmylegs said, rolling his eyes. I disregarded his jibe, and looked down at the poor little thing.

"Give it here, you're not holding it right," I said to him.

"I don' care how I'm holdin' it," He snapped, "It won' stop cryin' anyway."

"Wel,l no wonder, with your mug," I said, reaching out for the baby, "Give." He didn't, just went back towards the line-up, and I wondered if he was going to put the baby down at the end of the line to fend for itself. But he just stood, holding it. Some crewmembers were sniggering at the way he looked, but most were peering curiously. There was also what looked like an eight-year-old little boy clutching his mother's skirts.

"Please, s-sir, can you give me my d-daughter?" The woman stammered, turning to look at Jimmy. He shot her a look full of contempt, and I stepped forwards.

"Give the baby here, Jimmy," I said, reaching out. This time, he relinquished the tiny, screaming girl, and I held her properly, looking over at the woman, who was regarding me with a mingled look of fear and curiosity. "He doesn't know the littlest thing about babies, Jimmy," I said to her, trying to sound reassuring, though I'm pretty sure I couldn't have been more see-through if the words 'you're dead' were written on my forehead. She looked uncertain, but nodded anyway.

The captain and his first mate arrived. Davy looked at the baby in my arms, and then small boy holding his mother, and looked around at us all. Most of the men shrugged, as if saying, _what else were we meant to do?_ The captain rolled his eyes, and Maccus took up position, stalking along behind the doomed men – and in this case, woman and children. Suddenly, the boy turned towards him.

"You are bad, bad monsters!" He shouted, and then kicked Maccus in the shin. Maccus looked down, indifferently, and then gave him a kick that quite possibly could have crushed his skull. The woman screamed, leaning down and wrapping her arms around the boy, who was bleeding from the head, and buried his head in her shoulder.

"Maccus," I hissed at him. He jeered at me, and I rolled my eyes, trying to get the baby to stop screaming. I could tell that she was getting on Davy's nerves. The captain turned towards us, and began coming towards us – when a man stepped forwards, though he looked nervous.

"P-please, sir, don't hurt me wife 'n kids. Let them go, please..." He said, pleadingly. Davy gave him a look, and then shoved him out of the way with his crab claw, stepping past him, and I thought I heard him muttering something like '_families_'. He arrived in front of us – the woman was now holding the boy in her arms, and he was quiet and still, his face still in her collarbone. The woman had tears beginning to form in her eyes, and the baby had hushed a little – but only a little.

"Captain?" I asked him, as the baby continued to grizzle in my arms, "Can we get out a longboat and let them go, captain?"

"You're pathetic," He said with a leer. I glared at him. Then, he turned towards the mother of the family...

* * *

**NB:** Yes, much darker... and I think it's the first cliffhanger-sort-of-joined-onto-next-chapter-type chapter too. Topgallant said that Clanker seems to be one of Them - well, I don't know, he hasn't officially got a position, and I don't think that Davy likes him in particular; he just hangs out with a lot of, uh, Thems.

I need to get better at serious writing. Even in dark times there are jokes. Emoticon time; o0


	13. Chap 13: What Never Was

**13) What Never Was**

"Will you sign up to the crew?" He asked her, softly, "Join us for an eternity of work, for both you and your children? Some would call it a fate worse then death..." He levelled his gaze at her, while I stood, gobsmacked. He was meant to be convincing them to join, not to opt for death. Unless he _wanted_ to kill them? I looked around at the other men; they were just watching intently. Palafico stood nearby, and I looked over to him, and he caught my gaze. He just shrugged, looking downwards.

"No, no... please, sir..." She was begging him now, light hair plastered to her head, her boy still in her arms, and her daughter in mine. I really didn't want them to die now – I felt like it would haunt me forever. But I knew Davy; he hated families almost as much as he hated the very thought of love.

Ghosts of what he could have had...

"You do not wish to join?" He asked, his head cocking to the left jerkily, in that animalistic way that he had. I swallowed, and rocked the baby more, until she shushed all together. But a smile wouldn't come to my face – my heart was pounding, even though it wasn't me in their position.

"Please, please sir..." A tear broke out over the woman's cheek now, rushing downwards, mingling with the rainwater already washing her makeup down in streaks. The father, who was a little way down the line, reached out and twitched, longing to run over to his wife. Davy regarded her with a slight superiority; but nothing else. There wasn't any sign of him being about to pity the small family.

"Where were you headed to?" He asked – going off on a tangent a little. My heart began thudding more; but for a different reason. Was he going to let them go? Was he going to offer transport to the place they were going? No... no, I doubted it.

"St. Angelo Bay..." She said, shivering, and rocking her boy from side to side. Blood was beginning to seep into the top of her dress from the boy's head wound – she wasn't dressed finely; she wasn't like Natalia, she wasn't a rich woman, just an ordinary one; perhaps the reason she wasn't _completely _speechless. Davy seemed surprised; and then a malevolent smile came over his face.

"Nice place. Got to mind the sharks, though," Davy said, and he looked up to Maccus with a smirk. Maccus tried to look indifferent, but shifted uneasily. I wondered if, perhaps, that was where Maccus had died – by shark attack. And now he was turning into the very thing that killed him. It must be terrible... but no time to speculate that now.

I looked down at the little girl in my arms, who was quiet now, but she was chewing on her fingers, and there were creases on her red little face that showed that she may be about to begin wailing any second now. She felt heavy in my arms; and the blankets around her were sodden with rain and seawater, making her shiver. I wrapped my arm more comfortably around her, and found myself hoping against hope that the little girl would live.

"I... yes..." The woman didn't seem to know how to respond to him. Davy examined her closely, his face inches from her own, sharp eyes flickering over her face, taking in every little thing. Then he blew a spiral of smoke right into her face, making her cough. Laughing, her turned around, and walked off up the line to address some of the others on the voyage.

The woman was looking down at the floor, red-faced, tears still dribbling down her cheeks, her boy motionless in her arms, though I think he was alive – occasionally I could hear a muffled sob coming from somewhere near her shoulder. Extremely dark times...

There was a dull splash, and I looked up, to see that a man had been thrown overboard. The next one up from him was leaning against the side of the ship, absolutely shocked; he was quite small, and stocky, and had a pale, spoon-shaped face which peered out of a curtain of dark hair like the moon. He appeared to be gasping for breath, and his expression was a cross between exhausted, afraid, and complete bliss. In a few mutters, the deal was done; and Bill Turner joined the crew.

The nickname Bootstrap was picked up here; because he'd been strapped to a cannon by them and thrown overboard. There was some jeering as he vanished below decks, where all of the new comrades came to be grilled by Maccus. I'd gotten a little... creative in my interview.

He was back at the family again. The man had tried fruitlessly to come over; but he was held back by crewmembers, who commandeered him with a single touch. The woman rocked her boy, and kept on looking over to the baby girl in my arms, as if afraid I'd eat her. I guess I did look like something that would do such a thing, but it was a rather uninspiring thought all the same. Things get to me a lot more then people think; that's a problem.

"As for our _happy little family_..." Davy turned towards us, and spoke the final three words with so much venom; I wouldn't have been surprised if poison had started coming out of his mouth. I suspect strongly that he was jealous, though – what never was, what he could have had, and all that...

"Please, sir, let them go," The man said from somewhere along the line. There was a sound like someone taking the first bite into an apple; a crunching thud that was followed by a short gasp of pain. The woman spun around to stare, shrieking – _Graham_! Davy seemed to twinge ever so slightly at this point; just a small little wince, but it came to my attention nonetheless.

"Sir," I started, but a look from him silenced me.

"Kill them," Davy said, turning away from them and me. Maccus and Angler did the work here with the woman and her son – but I kept a tight hold of the baby girl, who – at the screams and horrified shout of the man – had began to whimper again.

"Captain!" I hissed at him, not able to stop myself. He turned and regarded me coolly for a moment.

"Throw the wean overboard," He said. I realized that by 'wean' he meant baby – I'd been called one a few times, but hadn't known what it was. But enough of me.

"No," I said. Davy levelled his gaze at me, his eyes cutting, a deep frown on his face. I looked back, my heart pounding. I couldn't kill her. I couldn't. It was different with men; and I admit I've slashed a few to death. But this was a small baby girl, firm and heavy in my hands, a little life. Surely I couldn't...?

"Do it. Now." Davy said, seeming to enjoy my torment. Maccus turned to me, and went to snatch her out of my arms, but Davy stopped him with a single shake of the head. "Let her do it by _choice_. Let's all see what our little princess is really made of."

"Sugar and spice, and everything nice..." I murmured quietly, "That's what little girls are made of." Davy seemed amused by my random poetry-spouting, but not at all about to give in. He stood in front of me, waiting for me to throw the baby girl overboard. Waiting for me to kill her. The worst possible punishment – and I resolved that nothing, _nothing_ could be worse.

"Come on then, little girl. Drown the little water rat. Are you _scared_ that these doomed men will _judge_ you? That they'll think of you as _evil_? Do you think the wee thing will have any idea what's happening? Will it feel betrayed, let down, _deceived_? Are you just too weak?" Davy was really panicking me now. Shut up, shut up!

"I... I'm just... sir..." I stammered. I just couldn't think of anything to say. At all.

"I'll be back soon. Make sure to _do it_." Davy sneered, before walking off up the line to ask the other men who had been captured. The father of the family looked close to throwing himself off of the edge of the ship anyway – no way was _he_ staying. But he was giving me this pleading look... like he was asking me to help him. Well. Not _him_. His eyes seemed to speak all by themselves – despite the fact that this was anatomically impossible – and they were saying, _don't kill her. Please don't kill her_.

Damn and buggerations.

I looked up at Maccus, and then shoved the girl into his hands, not able to even touch the girl for a second longer. The more I looked at her, the more I knew it would hurt when she was killed. I don't know why; she was a screaming, red-faced baby whom I had only just met. But... well, I guess babies can be like that, huh?

Folding my arms, I looked down at the decking, closing my eyes in both shame and horror; I somehow hoped this was all a dream. And the crying suddenly stopped.

----------

I knew that it wouldn't be long before tears began pouring out of my own eyes. Keeping my arms tight together, I sat on a crate below decks, hugging myself and thinking in the half-darkness. I couldn't stop thinking about it – no matter how much I tried. Things just seemed so dark. It was a few minutes after the events on top deck; and Davy seemed satisfied that I was hurting enough. And I hated him.

"Hey..." I looked up, blankly, at Palafico. He didn't really seem to matter that much any more – know what I mean? When something just slips beneath your notice, and you just can't bring yourself to care, for some reason.

"Hey yourself," I said. My voice sounded small. I don't know – was I overreacting? At least I'd found some way so I hadn't had to do the killing myself. But it was still pretty bad... I was a babykiller. Damn, damn, damn me. I was a babykiller... damn me to hell... or was this hell? I don't know. Sometimes it seemed like it; and other times, I felt so satisfied with my life here that I wouldn't swap it for anything else... well. Almost.

"Bibsy..." Palafico cocked his head at me, putting a hand tentatively on my shoulder, like he was afraid I would explode. Palafico does these things sort of... carefully. As if he were afraid he would do it wrong or something. I looked up at him, and he looked back at me, steadily. "It's okay."

I don't know. I just don't know! I'd just let the three-quarter-shark first-mate onboard a ship that was a representation of hell that I had been press-ganged into that coincidentally turned into monsters over time throw an innocent little baby into the ocean and drown her – and 'it's okay'. It was mad... but I felt better. In fact, I managed a weak smile.

----------

_The rowing boat gave a little splash as oars dipped into water – Bibsy and Palafico laughed at something; though they didn't really need a reason. It was a happy day today; and one that they would be sure not to waste. Once every ten years, the crew could walk the land... so walk the land they would! And Bibsy decided that she'd hang out with them too. She had nothing better to do and, well, they were almost like a family – and she'd missed out on a lot. _

_"What do you want to do?" Bibsy asked, looking down into the water. There were a few crewmembers in the small wooden boat, and they all seemed unsure. It had been a long time. Bibsy gave a small laugh. "You spend ten years yearning for land, and now that you can come back, you don't know what to do! You're such numpties. I remember you now." _

_Conversation flowed freely and loosely; but carefully avoided the topics of their old life under Captain Davy Jones. The torture, the hate, the division – all orchestrated perfectly by their cruel, bizarre, and rather lonely captain. Looking into the water, Bibsy felt that there should be ripples – perfect and round. But they were in the ocean, so they were missing out on it. _

_It looked all very tame, all very friendly and happy for the crew of the _Flying Dutchman_. Just... not something that one would come to expect. They chattered to each other, joking around random things – one crewmember poking another one there, another playfully hitting another in the small of their back. It wasn't what they were used to – but it was better, in lots of ways. As the talk went on, Bibsy found herself dropping out of the conversation, and just watching them all – still playing the guess-who's-who game. _

_She looked furtively to Palafico, who was next to her – and then reached down and held his hand in hers – in a tentative, almost shy way. Some of the crew jeered and whistled, and Palafico went red, but they just smiled stupidly at each other, for lack of anything better to do._

* * *

**NB:** Hmmm... not really a happy ending. But, well, I didn't really want the impression to be that life on the _Dutchman_ was all airy-fairy... though more smushysmush at the end. I just can't stop adding it in. Gahhhh! Writers blockage has struck on this story; for some reason, I don't feel that inspired to do it. I think I just enjoy writing my other story more... so yes. The updates on this story may come slower, but I'll try to prevent it.

Thanks for the reviews!


	14. Chap 14: Back in the Day

**14) Back in the Day **

Being on duty in the crow's nest has always, _always_ been the worst job. If you think the ship rocks, then think about how it must be in a tiny basket suspended miles in the air on a pole attached to the deck. It doesn't feel safe at all. You rock side to side to side to side, holding on for dear life. Yeah, people think that it's a day of slacking off in the nest, but they're wrong. I looked around, bored; it was the middle of the night, and there was a single boat drifting languidly through the water, it's dim lights clear over the ocean; whereas ours were concealed.

Another night, another victim – when I'd first joined the crew, I'd painstakingly worried about every single man who came on board, and every single man who died. But, five years down the line... I couldn't be bothered to care any more. Things just start washing over you, you know? If it happens every single day for years and years, who can be bothered to care any more?

I'm not saying my spirit dampened. In fact, I remained every bit as insane as when you first set eyes on me (actually, you never did get around to do that, did you?) – perhaps even more. But that's why people love me... uh, sort of. Or hate me. (Maccus, I'm looking at you again.)

While I was up there, there was a lot of time to think. Which some would say was never a good thing, as it would strain the little brain cells that I have – but I ignore those people, and you should too. I'm not thick. Not _that_ thick, anyway. So I was never good at maths and I was never in top sets for stuff, not a straight-A student – not even a straight-B student. But I didn't like being made to feel stupid... so I bluffed that I knew more then I did... rather a lot.

Sometimes, it ended in disaster.

I didn't even... _like_ my friends that much (going off on a tangent here, but still). I mean, we were friends, we hung out, but we weren't... _friends_. I couldn't be myself with them; if I said the weird thoughts that popped into my head, they'd probably look at me as if I were mad, and then smoothly move the conversation onwards. You know those people, right? With _no_ sense of humour. But I hung out with them the reason they all hung out with each other – I, generally, am good with people and can get where I want with them, and I thought the best thing for me was to get in with the 'it' crowd.

But it so was not. Which is why I feel so close to the _Flying Dutchman_ crew... years of repressed insanity comes out, and I still manage to make a few friends. It's good. If you have a good bunch of friends, make sure to keep them. They're good things to have.

I'll be keeping _mine_.

----------

_So it was... year ten? I don't know what you people in America would call it, I'm sorry. You people have grades and whatnot. Aaanyway. About year ten, which is the fourteen to fifteen-year-olds year. And me and my friends were swanning around the field, as usual. Jade was texting her college boyfriend, Milly was flicking through a magazine, and me and Daniella were chatting about... well, most probably our college boyfriends. _

_College boyfriends were in. _

_Mind you, they weren't always faithful. We dumped our bags in a pile, and fell back on the grass around it, adjusting our small skirts and talking. Now, I know I'm not exactly intelligent... but my friends make me look like a brain surgeon. Honestly. _

_"Ugh! And I so hate Jemma now! How fat is she, anyway?" Milly tossed her hair. _

_"I don't know... like, a hundred grams at least," Daniella pulled out a compact mirror and smoothed some foundation over her cheeks, pouting at herself. And no, you did not read that wrong. That is what she said. _

_"How much is that in like centimetres?" Asked Jade... the dimmest of them all. So, of course, the leader. Her most famous quotes to date include; 'stop being gay, you gay!' and 'if someone chopped your head off, would you die?' Yup. Brain surgeon and rocket scientist rolled into one. _

_"I don't know..." Daniella said uncertainly, seeing as Jade's question made no sense whatsoever, "I bet it's loads though! Ugh." _

_"She's fat though, isn't she? Don't you think, Bibs?" Milly nudged me in the side. I also had a compact mirror out, and was tweaking my eyelashes into position with my mascara wand. I looked to her – now, bitching wasn't something I enjoyed in particular, but you had to do it. _

_"Oh, yeah. I'd be scared if I were _her_ boyfriend. What does Eric see in her anyway? She'll smother him." I went back to mascara-ing, relieved to escape from the bitchy conversation before I got tagged as the 'main bitcher' and it got around that _I_ was the one saying all of these things. When asked who had started a rumour, every single one of these girls would blame one of their friends. _

_"Did you see the Nicole Richie show?!" _

_"Oh my god, yeah, I mean who knew the celebrity weddings never lasted?" _

_"Ooh, who's going clubbing tomorrow?" _

_"My dad is suuuch a loser... he's always on at me to eat breakfast!" _

_Every. Single. Lunchtime._

----------

Why, oh why, did Palafico know the answer to every single question ever known to mankind? It was a good thing when I actually wanted to _know_ these things, but otherwise it got on my nerves, ever so slightly. I guess it wasn't his fault that his head is like a mine of useless, random and inane information, but you could ask him next to everything and he'd pause for a second and then 'have a shot' at answering, and of course, get it exactly correct.

So I started the official 'What-Palafico-Doesn't-Know' collection.

"Why's the sky blue?" "Can lobsters swim?" "When you die, do you meet your parents again?" "What if you die before your parents do?" "Who is George Bush?" "Do you know why I'm asking you so many annoying questions?" "What's your middle name?" (okay, that's more like one he _wouldn't_ tell me) "What is Santa Claus' secret identity?" "What _do_ they say about men with big feet?" "How about short men?" (Hmm, another two that he preferred to not answer)

"Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?" I demanded to him, one day. These questions came without warning... he said to me once it was like I stalked him, and jumped on him when he was least expecting it.

"I couldn't rightly say," He said to me with a shrug.

"Say it!" I said to him with a grin, "Say you don't know!"

"Do _you_ know?" He asked me.

"Of course," I smiled, "So say it. You don't know, do you?"

"No, I don't know," He said, frowning at me. He was completely oblivious to my secret joy whenever he said that he didn't know something... which ruined the game a bit, but still. Palafico is nice, and very smart, but can be a teeny bit dim when concerning people.

Point!

"And how many stars are there in the sky?" I asked him, looking upwards.

"Do you know the answer to that?" He asked back.

"Nope." I replied.

"In that case... seventeen million."

"That's not true!"

"Prove it." Aargh! Even my best friend owned me!

----------

"Get on with scrubbin'," Jimmy said to me harshly, barging past me on his way to... wherever he went.

"Hi Jimmy! I'm good thanks, Jimmy! Love you too, Jimmy!" I said sweetly, blowing a kiss at his retreating back. He snapped his whip loudly in the air, causing a hush in conversation, which cautiously started again. I think it was a message for me.

----------

"Friendship is weird," Clanker muttered to me. I followed his gaze, and saw Maccus, Koleniko, Jimmy and a couple of others sitting around, talking idly, not a smile to be seen. 'Friends'. And then I looked over across the decking, to where Davy Jones stood, puffing sagely on a pipe in the half-darkness, back straight, with Palafico standing at his shoulder, looking dangerous and ever so slightly disinterested, as was his job. 'Friends'?

"Friendship is like peeing on yourself," I said in my wisest voice, "Everyone can see it, but only you feel the warmth that it brings."

"...thanks for that," Clanker replied.

* * *

**NB:** Pfft... first update since never, and it's a fairly uninspired one at that. I'm sorry guys. D: Hopefully, the next chapter will be better. If you have any ideas to get the ball rolling, be my guest to suggest. It rhymes. w00t. I'm not exactly a born poet, am I?


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